
Don’t be a puppet on a string. – Michelle Liew
πͺπͺ‘π§΅ππ΄οΈπͺππͺ’πͺπ§΅πͺπͺ‘π§΅ππ΄οΈπͺππͺ’πͺπ§΅
They tugged my strings
With sugar-covered hands
I moved on cue.
πͺπͺ‘π§΅ππ΄οΈπͺππͺ’πͺπ§΅πͺπͺ‘π§΅ππ΄οΈπͺππͺ’πͺπ§΅
Till one day,
I stayed.
Wood cracked.
πͺπͺ‘π§΅ππ΄οΈπͺππͺ’πͺπ§΅πͺπͺ‘π§΅ππ΄οΈπͺππͺ’πͺπ§΅
Truth within shattered splinters
I ran away,
Unscathed.
Now I prance
With the flowers in the breeze,
To no song but mine.
πͺπͺ‘π§΅ππ΄οΈπͺππͺ’πͺπ§΅πͺπͺ‘π§΅ππ΄οΈπͺππͺ’πͺπ§΅
πͺπͺ‘π§΅ππ΄οΈπͺππͺ’πͺπ§΅πͺπͺ‘π§΅ππ΄οΈπͺππͺ’πͺπ§΅
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