REFLECTIONS © 2011

Honestly, I’m tired of being,

A puppet in the souls of poets,

Moved by strings I cannot see,

Trapped in words that the mind completes.

Poets weave me, shape me in verses,

And I, without my own voice, dance in the plot,

I’m a figure in dreams and universes

They create, but never reveal the fear.

Tired of being the reflection of others,

Living emotions that aren’t mine,

Being the echo of distant voices,

While my own soul withers.

I want to break the strings, to be free at last,

To live my truth, to find my end.

To be more than a puppet, a whole being,

Walking to the sound of my true heart.

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