The Puppet's Poem

It was Time for the puppet show and the audience gathered

Straighten the chord and let him dance on the brim of the glass

Watch him stumble as the sure footed thoughts slip on the wine drip

An adagio? Why? When the major turns into a minor and the beauty falls asleep

Let him drown in the Wine for the truth stands tall and mighty

And the audience wearing laughter, mocking.

What could have been an act in the Major rewritten in the minor

But who says the minors are dark? Paint it in red, sparkling red said I

Eyes once shut will open to the true music composed in the minors

Piercing the puppet heart. Who cares, for even the broken heart could be played with

All that the puppeteer needs is a chord and the audience,

Start over again, dance, jump and skip for the Night is getting old.

Oh my little heart, wish you were deaf! Wish you were blind!

Wish you had never known what the music in the minor sounds like

The bottles of wine can never wash away the painting she has made

A miasma is all that will be left, lingering around the puppet's heart

While the audience sip the glittering White and the sparkling Red.

Let the puppet dance to the memories stitched in the purple, dance until the wine is over!

Through the wine glass they see

Through the wine glass they hear

The puppet dancing to the minors covered in the Wine

Bury the truth, bury the memories drenched in the wine!

A crack in the glass shouts the child in the audience

For the puppet's heart is loaded with poems,

Poems that cant be tied to a chord,

Poems with wings unseen by the puppeteer and the audience

Fly away from the glass of wine to somewhere pure and white