puppeteer

I sometimes write those thoughts
you wouldn't, couldn’t speak,
those secret only you know thoughts
locked inside so deep,
drama-rama peaks, oh no, the rising sun!
you may just be the victim of- too much fun

those closely guarded thoughts
you never ever speak,
may fray your moral threads of acceptability,
free your heavy heart… you've harmed no one,
you were probably just the victim of- too much fun

your conscience plays the puppeteer,
plucking strings of life,
but tomorrow comes another day
and you’ve mistakes you haven’t made,
don't fret about last night,
greet the rising sun,
and savor all the flavor
having too much fun…

:)

S.A. Peck