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Burnt paper machete puppets swing lifeless from the rafters. The evening breeze gives them a slight appearance of life. A false hope for those who believe. Amongst the ashes are the memories. Black scorched remnants of childhood.  There are no pieces left to put together. On my hands & knees I sift through the dusty rubble, shards of glass, splintered wood, rusty nails, hoping to find one thing that can keep me tied to this place. It's all gone. All gone except the now mocking marionettes that dangle above me. Held over my head like some irrational responsibility you tried to instill from a drug laced perspective of twisted reality. I'm left only with that battle.