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
Ever-present sorrow
But she knows no different
And will be a puppet
For as long as she can hold on.


  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.

    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.

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

    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.

    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.