Phantom puppet master,
Plays his paper fiddle.
The game of life’s endless,
Cruel impossible riddle.
Echoic vault slams shut,
Tears stain their face.
Prison bars of iron,
We’re far from Grace.
Borrow, barter, beg,
Peter’s wallet. Paul’s purse.
Save, swindle, swap,
We called upon the curse.
Darkness with monsters deep,
Abyss, oh bottomless pit.
Fear your fragile strings,
I don’t jump; I quit.
S. R. Crawford 