why i told you so,
and then now
the puppets disobey

the puppet master
is angry
when it is said
that such events
should never happen

fill the desk with labels.

they break apart
the gold ink
is worn out

dust begins to cover the words
filled with so much memories

how lame.

how lame that belief
was never objected
for it was only natural
that the puppets obeyed

when strings
could still be used.

it is what you want isn’t it?
or was?

never mind all that,
for already
the belief
is beginning to

show the signs of tear.

tears,
not of regret

only of a loss
of control.