Remember me ,the girl hanging by a thread ?

The girl with big wonder-filled eyes that no one understood ?

Yeah ,that’s me ,except now ,it seems I’m free ,well freer than I used to be

My strings are something the puppeteer no longer pulls

But late at night or when my guard is low ,I still can remember his yells and abuse ,his grip on my body may be long gone , but his grip on my mind remains

I fear that he will find me again,and steal me back

One of the few things that still gives me joy and hope ,is my Jester

He claimed me to be a goddess ,despite my pitiful wooden frame ,and our love and laughter continuously echo through the walls

Yet it all seems too good to last

I keep dreading the inevitable sickening words ,”The End” from the narrator in the background

Or worse that it’s sweetness will fade and with it,it’s beauty to the point where the very thing that nourished you turns into poison

So in desperation ,I hold my Jester tight,all the while keeping the darker pieces of my soul far from his reach, fearing his run,knowing many fear, things that lack light

Besides who would want to be with someone who is constantly two steps behind everyone else?

Who’s a miscalculated step from disaster?

I’m a ticking time bomb , my scars run deep

Yet when I look at the crowd,their faces all in awe , their cheers loud ,they call my name ,remarking my beauty and talent

I look in the mirror trying to find these remarkable qualities they claim I have,wanting to see them,slowly I begin to do just,wondering why I never noticed them before

I stare at my strings ,tired of their weight ,I grab the knife cutting each of them off

Control I finally had it,finally I can be me