0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.
amidst the dyeing candle lighti sit forlorn alonea place once fill with laughter bright a place i once called homenow the puppets are my companybut wood and straw cant speekif per chance they came to lifeim certain they would weepwhat am i without your tender touchthe hands to hold and guide mewhat has a use a puppet with no puppeteer beside mei do not care i have no hairmy painted face is scratched must i spend my whole lifeliving life no strings attachedit not mine but i love it
lolyeah i haven't though of it for more then a decade and just today it was in my head. my memory does things like that to me
These where all brilliant to read by the way - just thought i'd say
Not at all... they ARE ALL very inspiring - no sarcasm here