The myst of mystery
Clouds my soul
And burns inside
My heart.
I long to learn
The tales untold
And rip the worlds
Apart.
I turn around
And look again
To see what makes
It tick,
And still somehow
I cannot seem
To even start
To pick.

Should I go left-
Or lead to the right?
Which man should live
Or die?
Is she “the one”?
Can it be done?
Who shall I try
To make cry?
My goal is just
To make your heart
Break and ache
And fly-
And though you don’t
Forget to admit it,
You hate me for burning
The sky.

I pull your strings
And strum your heart,
And make you wish
For the end.
You grasp the pages,
Looking for more,
But find no way
To mend
A broken heart.
How can you try
To ignore what I make
You think?
I know when you read,
You’re under my control-
You run but you stand
On the brink.

I am the puppet master-
The weaver of lives.
I find within pages
The greatest chance
To make a difference
In the world.