A return, requires a leaving.
My return dawned with the sunrise that I have not left
could not leave and shall not leave as long as I exist.
A walk to the gallows is but a stroll through a gate.
Self induced fate, the marionette walks unknowing of the truth, it is its own master,
it is the puppet and the string
and the hand that leads.
These strings that can connect or bind but with the slight of the hand and a trick to your eyes and from your own mind.
We perceive only what we would like to belie.
And that is the TRUTH.
My perceptions were guided mostly, not by what I want, but by what I knew I did not want.
I was not connected but bound in fate
aware of its illusion but not aware of the truth behind it.
I was the mirror my thoughts the smoke.
A marionette walking to the gallows
Hung on my own strings, by my own hands.