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No Strings
16 July, 2011
Author: Ben Franklin

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I was the puppet,
the devil was the master pulling the strings,
leading me away from the truth and the light, pulling me to darkness and sin.

my life was not my own, I was reaping what I had sown,
not realizing that my time on this earth was just a short loan.

narcotics, Antibiotics...making me Psychotic!

holding me, tight grip, I was your slave to whip, never wanting me to get up, always wanting me to slip.


Then saved, a narrow path by the lord was paved,he let me look forward and forgave me for the way I behaved....eternal life now...not the devil's grave.

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Comments on this poem/writing:

Meri (64.12.117.71) -- Friday, July 22 2011, 01:19 am

I see a rhythm in this one brother

Grinning. The devil needs a good thrashing and a little tongue lashing. Whip him so severly down the road he'll go dashing. Conquer Ben! Yes! Loving this piece!
Ben Alan Franklin (86.6.107.117) -- Saturday, July 23 2011, 09:21 pm

Hey

Miss M! thanks for the comment! will carry on whipping!
 
Name:                                           Remember Me

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