Sometimes It’s Not Your Hand Holding The Strings Of The Puppet… – Wrapped In Words

Catch and release, cut the vein and watch them bleed, let them run to build the fun, build the fear with terror as the seed, make them feel lost, make them feel frightened, weakening their resolve until its broken with each hallowed cry that ends with them saturated in their own piss, blood, sweat and tears, let them run, extend the fun, grow their fear, spread the hate, fold the lies within a surprise of musical chairs for it’s all death and taxes in the end, with a fine line between one and the other, between pleasure and pain, between love and hate, between life and death, and as it always is, the power is never in your hands,  but someone else’s finger hovering over the stop button…

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