belief

why i told you so, and then now the puppets disobey the puppet master is angry when it is said that such events should never happen fill the desk with labels. they break apart the gold ink is worn out dust begins to cover the words filled with so much memories how lame. how lame that belief was never objected for it was only natural that the puppets obeyed when strings could still be used. it is what you want isn't it? or was? never mind all that, for already the belief is beginning to show the signs of tear. tears, not of regret only of a loss of control.