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Poems Encouraged by Pain

The Puppet:

I feel as though my strings are being cut.
My puppeteer is no more.
He has left me on the stage.
The replacement holds a knife ot my strings, preparing to slice them.
I cry out for my puppeteer, but he does not come.
My wooden hands tremble with fright.
This is surely the end.
Won't my puppeteer come back?
Will another come to save my strings from the guilotine?
Or will I perish in the pyre of death?



The Swan's Final Song

The swan is dying, friend.
He has lost everything.
His beauty, his love, his life.
Now, as the sun sets on his life, he prepares a final song for the world.
he opens his beak and a single, lovely note escapes his broken beak.
Such a lovely, heart-breaking note!
Please, lovely swan, do not die!
But, what is there to do?
I tell you friend, what to do.
Listen and respect the Swan's final song.
Good night, sweet Swan.