A puppeteer, you may call it,
the master of manipulation.
All his fingers hold the knots,
to the cracks in your foundation.
Hidden by your tall, lean shadow,
he lurks behind your back;
forward, with every move you make,
warlock takes his attack.
Each digit fidgets suddenly,
and your body seems to twitch;
the hands of time stop ticking now,
trapped in by the witch.
The only sound that you can hear,
is the crying of the dead;
a mournful, sad melody,
that plays often in your head.
You think, "maybe, i'll get a break",
he's tricked you into believing,
the more you do for him,
the less that you'll be breathing.
He takes you in and ***** you up,
and you would never know,
the strings in which he has you tied,
lets him be in control.