Puppeteer
I watch you from my perch atop your despairing figure, taking in your beauty, your grace, and your pain. I watch you as you test the strings that twist around you pitiful form. Your very movements convey desperation, hopelessness, and misery. The internal turmoil is evident on your features: the way your elegant brows sag in defeat, the way your back slouches in surrender, and the way your tempting lips quiver in sorrow. You utter cries of frustration, of rage – at yourself, or at me, I do not know – and your lustrous hair flips back like a curtain of exotic, scarlet silk, as you turn your head upwards to face me. Your gaze pierces my own with contempt. I hold your eyes captive; my stare, I know, is cold, unflappable, and emotionless. For a moment, the spark in your dazzling orbs waver, and I begin to suspect your hesitation. However, I cannot help but admire your blazing spirit, as the feral look slowly but surely greets me once again. At this very moment, you must deem me a damning, heartless monster, and I cannot correct you, for it is the truth. Nevertheless, what you overlook and fail to comprehend, is that my being cruel and ruthless, can only be one part of my heavily tainted soul. I cannot let you understand; I keep myself hidden behind a taunting mask, because to reveal myself would be failure. If I exposed myself, I'd no sooner expose my weakness. This is why I toy with your strings. This is why I use your love as a tool against my foes. You cannot know, can never know, the reason for my abusing your heart, and bruising your soul. I cannot untie the knots – do not ask me to. I cannot give you freedom.
Yes, I am a monster, and I am selfish. But this selfishness keeps me strong. This selfishness lets me keep and conceal my weakness. Through this selfishness, you are mine...
for all eternity.