I am but a puppet hung by fate’s coarse noose
 Only to kick and choke at my bound struggle

Fingers rub raw as they pulls at these strings
 Each word is another breath I cannot take

The taut strings only bind me on a pendulum in the air
 And blood bubbles between each tear filled gasp

For these strings are not of those of a hangman’s noose
 But broken from my heart and holding me by the throat.

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