ThePhantomWritings

                  Hanging loose...


I feel the strings that I hang by on my shoulders, they move my body from corner to corner...
All of my superiors look down on me, telling me that my strings are just protecting me...

But as I hang quietly in my little corner, I think that maybe if I just look over the border...
"What can happen? What could possibly go wrong? These are my fellow humans they just probably want to hear my song"

But as I gently cut my fragile strings up, I realize that this circus is not really what I thought...

What is, what is this thing I'm looking at? Do those clowns really want to make me laugh? Won't that contortionist badly break her back? Aren't those elephants in pain, from being used as puppets in a world of dogma made in vain?

Then... I look at myself. Why am I feeling sorry for everybody else? I am just as useless as all the freaks in here....
chorus
I have a body made of clay and hay so weak. And a mind controlled by the thoughts so woeful and meek. What exactly can I do to help when I'm the only one, who sees the truth and won't let the brutes take over the carnival... What. What do I do?

Do I scream about it?
"Who is gonna hear?" says the bearded lady while she waits for her beer.
Well... Do I write a letter"
"To who you stupid girl? Is not like the mail gets spread around the world" says the talking monkey while around his cage he twirls
"I know!!! I'll talk to everybody and plan a riot!!!"
"We're trying to sleep puppet just be quiet!!! Why don't you just accept your fate. Whatever you were ever taught is only fake." Said the head acrobat as he came out of his cage.
"Then what do we do?"
"Shut the fuck up!!!" they said all at once.
"It's not like you can change it all under this cape with just your will of power, we're just a bunch of freaks we're good for nothing. Let's just do as were told and hope for something"

So I just quietly put my strings back up, and I let myself be moved around by all of those whom I used to trust. At least now I hang more loosely because now I know the truth and maybe I will do something in the future, or maybe I'll just be like the rest of these circus freaks; and stand by quiet while the world does what it wants with me.   


  I mostly write poems, short stories, or essays. But lately I have been writing songs and this is one of them.
I always feel as if the things I do are not really done because I want to, but because my superiors tell me that it is what I should be doing. My superiors tell me it's for my own good, that they are protecting me. But I just wanna be free.