Pinocchio’s Strings

January 3, 2008

A few years have passed for Geppetto’s toy
Who now dreams of more than becoming a boy
But the freedom to roam came with one fatal error
Leaving far too much line in the strings that were severed

No longer controlled by the old timer’s hand
Pinocchio faces perils in the human wasteland
Tripping and falling he stumbles along
Reminding himself what’s right and what’s wrong
The strings that are trailing bend his arms without failing
His hand can be guided when he’s undecided

But Pinocchio is a headstrong fighter
So he twists the strings to make them tighter
With a sweaty brow he’ll never lose hope
That he has the power to snap every rope

And once his limbs are unrestricted
He’ll learn that humans should be dissected
For the things that wrap him in a bind
Are controlled by ties on the inside
When the strings threatening to pull him apart
Are the tiniest strands attached to his heart

This post is filed under:
Poetry / Creative Writing

Tags: Creative Writing, Paul Seele, Poetry