I knew there would come a time..

When he would cave to that which is the DEVIL.. everyone does, That is what makes it the devil. I guess I just had more faith in him as a person.. To not be corrupted by such a horrible place. I am beyond disappointed in him. But how I feel no longer matters. I am just the puppet master.. I pull a string, and the puppet dances.. I put the idea into his head that he is somehow greater than what he believes.. I want to say things that hurt. Things that will leave lasting scares, but being that i am the Puppet master, wouldn't that be akin to clipping strings just because my fingers are tired? Or even removing certain ones because I realize that I have given life, so life must be lived. With out my methods of madness. I am bored. I need new puppets. I am in need of new strings. But as my youth has run out, so in fact has my ability to make puppets. My fingers are riddled with arthritis. They are slowly becoming twisted and useless right before my eyes. I look at them and realize.. that they are no longer beautiful and that they will never be again. I can try to slow the process by taking the (meds) that the pharmacist gives.. But what is the point? I am slowly losing my audience. My life( like the puppet show) has become repetitive and mundane. Dare I even say , lonely? Because even though I have surrounded myself with these puppets, They do not understand when I talk to them. Most of the time, the level that I have to drop down to just to whisper things they HAVE to hear, just makes my rheumatic knees hurt. But they have to feel special, because in their minds, they show will not go on with out them. They know that i am old and beginning to fall apart. They wait, with their greedy eyes beaming and excited for me to take my last breath. There are those who love the small protection that I provide them, and so they try to slow the process.. But mostly, they will feel relief when I leave this plane for the next. I would like to curl up into a ball and just cry.. with out the help of outside stimulation, like pot or alcohol or other drugs. But It has been so long since something like that has happened, I don't think I actually know how. I have two choices. To curl up in a ball and accept my fate.. in essences to become one of my crappily carved puppets, or to go out in a blaze of glory. Choosing my own path as puppet master. Perhaps I can incite a riot among the puppets, and get them to PUT me out of my misery unknowingly. I am at odds of what to do. Any suggestions from those who are still paying attention?