Punky writes: Biting my tongue twiddling my thumbs... Ill smile and nod and be the puppet that you long me to be. Ill paint a pretty heart on my cheek and stare with painted eyes and red lips that are curved into a smile. Ill flash my rosy cheeks at you and let you tell me where to move and what to say. Ill give and give til I have nothing left, and wait til I get wore out just so you can throw me away and replace me with another puppet that has no flaws... Its a good thing that these eyes are painted, so no one can see the tears come spurting out of my eyes... And everyone will read this and think its about one thing, not knowing that really it has nothing to do with that at all... Because u see I'm a puppet, and puppets don't have feelings after all...
Wilbur writes: very very very good! ahh but when the puppet comes to life and cuts the strings then the party begins...while then the only tears shed are from the one who assumed they were in control, for you see even a good puppet has the ability to fight and win. Never see a good man down they say..well I say never let them see what new move the puppet has ... See Morelearned to do! For perhaps they are the puppet and you the one who controls their strings?? hmm ever thought the the answer doesn't lay within the puppet master's hand but in the heart of the puppet? hmm now for those who assume well bend over puppet and let them see the crack between the lines and for there is the real smile! and the only the ignorant have painted eyes. For in the eyes of the puppet will be found the depth of the soul. For every puppet has a heart beat, blood running in the veins, So dance my puppet for you are free indeed!
Punky writes: I see you understood it Can :) see this is just something I wrote to vent about the past a little... I was thinking and it came out like this... And indeed the puppet can be freed... But it takes a certain someone to free them... Jesus :)
Wilbur writes: Dearest, Jimminie cricket, I write thee for the sake of Pinochio you must begin to speak for in your voice will all others be silent, with you guidance will Pinochio find freedom. For is it not in riddles we speak? Parables that we come with? But the depth of the heart and the bottled tears we bring, for in our alabaster box we sacrifice the finest... See More of all! So think it not strange that you see the trail of blood that follows behind, for its that of the wounded trying to self heal as we stumble to the throne room of the Great I am pulling out the knives of those we once called friends...For though we are on the quest may the whale pass by for we are not Jonah as most may assume. We are mere soldiers who have found our way home after a long and hard battle out on the field. For no one knows the sights we have seen, no one knows what defeats we faced, yet here we stand after the fight...Sunset, and gentle breeze is all we have to remind us that we made it home from the war. Family is gone, Friends were burried at sea and time cause that one to move on.....Patients and God are what we clinge to now with a knowing that these old puppets can in deed breathe again!
