From being a kid,
To being dead..
Whatever we did,
Whatever we said..
All of them like puppets,
With strings held by society..
The things we need,
The lives we lead..
Realities killing dreams,
The wounds we bleed..
All of them like puppets,
With strings held by rules..
The graves we dug,
The darkness we drew..
All that to come back to us,
For the seeds we sew..
All of them like puppets,
With strings held by fate..
It’s time to let dreams,
Set free of them screams..
To not follow roads,
Not walk around in teams..
Not be like puppets,
With hands held by faith..
– JD
incessantwondering 