• the grand puppet master,
    tugs at the strings attached to the beating heart.
    twisting and turning,
    turning and twisting.
    till all but that one stout emotion shines through.
    love.
    It is potent,
    it is pure.
    It is callused,
    it shall endure.

    The muscle, it hangs from its holster,
    like a Marionette from its master.
    The strings ever tight,
    the guiding hand ever strong.
    The grip may loosen,
    but be wary the heart that strays.
    For ever the grip may tighten,
    the once strong wall, may yet wash away.

    For the heart that strays shall ever be,
    locked away with in its box.
    to be only taken out to me used once more,
    as a puppet.