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In that forgotten region of town where wasted ambitions and dreams abound, an elderly man with life near end in hopes to have at least one friend. He fashioned pieces of wood and things and crafted a marionette tied to silk strings.
He remained alone for hours on end conversing with his only friend and found delight within the fact that he controlled its every act. He told it how he never had a chance because all his fortune was bad although he had tried so hard to succeed; the marionette would only incline and agree.
His experiences in romance had never given him a promise, and wasn't it a crying shame that he was always held to blame when everyone knew very well that life can be a living hell. Controlled by greed, lust, and power? The marionette would only incline and agree.
With patience that would rival saints, the marionette endured throughout all complaints and, with each little meticulous pluck, he would bow his head, incline, or shrug and gave some comfort to the man who held all his lifelines in his hands and helped to fill a lonely hollow whilst the marionette would only listen and sorrow.
Senility increased with time and so did the old man's pantomime and feverish fingers pulled with glee the marionette's dance of misery. They never left each other's side until the day both ceased and died. We found them lying hand in hand: the marionette and his lonely old friend.
By Michael Mack
He remained alone for hours on end conversing with his only friend and found delight within the fact that he controlled its every act. He told it how he never had a chance because all his fortune was bad although he had tried so hard to succeed; the marionette would only incline and agree.
His experiences in romance had never given him a promise, and wasn't it a crying shame that he was always held to blame when everyone knew very well that life can be a living hell. Controlled by greed, lust, and power? The marionette would only incline and agree.
With patience that would rival saints, the marionette endured throughout all complaints and, with each little meticulous pluck, he would bow his head, incline, or shrug and gave some comfort to the man who held all his lifelines in his hands and helped to fill a lonely hollow whilst the marionette would only listen and sorrow.
Senility increased with time and so did the old man's pantomime and feverish fingers pulled with glee the marionette's dance of misery. They never left each other's side until the day both ceased and died. We found them lying hand in hand: the marionette and his lonely old friend.
By Michael Mack
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