[right]
[b]Mirrors bend the Strings[/b]

When my mirrors bend the strings,
The songbird carries me every time I stop
While I cheer myself on, I spring at the mercy of wires
The path looks off; Lies caked on dressing with no rewards await this quiet badger
But, I am no badger, just looking for a moment to shake them off,
These strings I mean

The tug of war had me reeling, heaving, about to break,
Yet here in I reflect; on the bright side everyone forgets
My own space shines a hole of a burning halo, multiple sizes and scales worth
Why break the image now when I can see the puppet masters?
I can move as they push the buttons to misdirect the wool; I have scissors for it, options,
For the mirror bends more than light and life

Super subtle slices, calm complex cuts, and awe-inspiring abrasions; I made a frame
Many frames to kite the little things aside, to be better for my reasons without pure bitterness
The strings may pull my body to tear down the painting I struggled to put in place, in my mind,
But in the mind the strings are bound to me, they are full of color and cool tints to me
I bounce between mellow, mystery, and misery, but at the moment when I know better,
My options control both the controller and this wonderful show 

[/right]