The puppet show, a stage in a gloaming hall where shadows crept,
The scene was set for a macabre performance.
Ropes kept strained by malicious design,
As monsters revelled in their vile crime.
Puppets jigged with blank sights,
Their lifeless limbs were a grim disguise.
Every jerk and every twist,
A mockery of a soul dismissed.
The hidden demons grinned with dark delight,
Their laughter echoed through the night.
They crafted their show with wicked art,
Each thread became a noose around the hearts.
With every tug, the puppets screamed,
Trapped in a macabre, endless nightmare.
Their movements faltered, then relented,
To cruel hands that never repented.
The audience of shadows sighed,
Unmoved by the torment, they spied.
For in this realm of dread and fear,
Empathy had disappeared.
Yet, in the depths where shadows dwelt,
A whisper stirred a mournful knell.
For even in their plight so dire,
The puppets’ souls retained a fire.
They yearned to break their cursed chain,
To escape the cruel and twisted pain.
Though strings were taut and hearts were cold,
A spark of hope remained untold.
In the darkest hours, when monsters slept,
The puppets’ dreams began to creep.
They plotted and schemed beneath the veil,
To turn their torment into a haunting tale.
For in their silence, a rebellion grew,
A plan to overthrow their foes.
The final act, a grand reveal,
Where broken strings began to heal.
A horror tale to be got by heart,
In the midst of the night shadows.
For even in the cruellest show,
The heart’s defiance had yet grown.
As dawn broke through the grim façade,
The puppets rose, no longer flawed.
Their strings were severed, freedom found,
Their haunting cries were no longer bound.
The monsters’ laughter faded to fear,
As justice claimed its rightful sphere.
In shadows’ depths, a new dawn gleamed,
Where once was dread, now hope was redeemed.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
