6:15 p.m. -- These Strings

Tear these strings.
They cannot be here.
Clear the web.
There's nothing to catch.
Make your move,
Chain me with silence.
Put me in my place.
Then leave me behind.
Because these strings, they are forming,
They threaten to exist.
As I cut at the root,
They fight and resist.
Am I now your prisoner,
One you must now release.
Put me out of my mysery,
Just destroy my growing wings.
Place me back in my empty box,
With my empty strings.

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