Monday, September 24, 2012

A Finite Resource

Kept a child
Forever stunted
She’ll be her mother’s mirror
She’ll speak her words
Mime her every everything
Though this girl is different
A soul however fractured
For her mother to destroy,
To crush, consume
She’s miserable now
Beguiled by material collectables
She’s but a finite resource
For the insatiable beast
Her dim light slowly fades
Into her misery
All-consuming
Ever-present sorrow
But she knows no different
And will be a puppet
For as long as she can hold on.

7 comments:

  1. This was almost me. Always a little weird to have someone who doesn't know you peg you so well. I needed the reminder I escaped. Thanks. I hope she does.

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    1. Me too. My wife and I got a look at her "life" reading her tweets over 18 months. We were both dag near pulling out our hair saying "get out, get away, wake up!!!". It's tough.

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  2. Puppets sometime cut their strings. I hope she does.

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    1. She'll have to pull a Pinocchio or something. Affirm to herself that "she's a real girl!" and rip the strings from her puppet master's hand. It took magic for the wooden doll, and it may take nothing short of that too for my sister.

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    2. Sadly, I just don't see a girl with much strength of will here. Sometimes people do really miraculous things, and that's what I hope for her, but I just think she's missing something really vital that's required for breaking away.

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