I’ve been blessed. I’ve been blessed to fall into a horrendous sleep that was nothing but a cacophony of seizures, crying, screaming, and a coma of pain. I am blessed. I blessed that when this hurricane was over my eyes were wide open and the glaze in my eyes was gone. I say that I’ve been blessed to see the truth where there are lies hidden and a facade is revealed. The strings will no longer be wrapped around my arms, they will not wrap around my legs, and they will not strangle the blood from my heart. Strings everywhere all I see, strings that have been stretched across me so long that they’ve turned into vines. Vines of pain, pain that other's walk through like a ghost walks through smoke and doors. I say that I’m blessed. Young boys and young good hearted men the puppet master is losing and all puppet master’s are losing at their game and are stuck in the vines by the pines. These are the puppet master’s that mother’s hope their young boy’s are never infected by the puppet master’s swing and flicker of their game. Their sappy sap is gone. They are losing and they are all stuck with their puppet strings now vines, in the cold pines. My mother once told me never to speak ill of any women, even if they’ve done you wrong with the flicker of their strings. Let their wrongs be revealed by their own doing. Soon their swing will be gone and the vines will be too heavy and they’ll be no puppets to draw. These puppets master’s who seek out naivety to harm with their swing will soon end up in the cold alone in the pines with vines. I say that am blessed that my hurricane unleashed the vines this morning. The Puppet Master’s Vines, By Daniel Alberdeston@2021
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