My Fallen Angel

There was a time
when I hung on your every word
like a marionette
The strings, my veins
pulsing with blood
to the heart in your hands
as you twist and tilt me
into a dance

I severed those veins
with a rusty knife
freed myself from your prison
I stood up straight into your eyes
viewed your true form
horns and all

I do not cry
I laugh

You can twist and jerk
that bloody pulp
in your hands
but I am done
with dance

Michael Wolf Ilett