Puppet Poem by Devin Iven
Puppet
The stage is dark.
The curtains rise.
I step out.
The silence dies.
My arm raises high.
A vicious knife.
An open wound.
The gleaming scythe.
The river runs.
A blood red hue.
Life slips away.
Eyes roll askew.
The lights go dim.
I step back.
The curtains close.
And all goes black.
'A show so brief.'
A whisper said.
The puppet master.
In my head.
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4/26/2024 9:24:44 PM # 1.0.0.1119
