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In shadows deep, where silence screams,

A boy named Martin lived in dreams,

His body twitched, his limbs did shake,

Controlled by strings he couldn’t break.

In shadows deep, where silence screams,

A boy named Martin lived in dreams,

His body twitched, his limbs did shake,

Controlled by strings he couldn’t break.

The attic whispered in the night,

With creaks and groans, a dreadful sight,

A marionette with hollow eyes,

Waited there beneath the skies.

“You are mine,” the puppet said,

With twisted limbs and grinning dread,

It pulled him close with unseen strings,

As darkness wrapped around his wings.

The boy would jerk, the doll would dance,

In this cursed, sinister trance,

Their bodies moved, a twisted show,

Bound by forces none could know.

His muscles burned, his body bled,

A puppet now, his soul had fled,

Invisible hands, they took their toll,

Controlling him, devouring whole.

The whispers grew, the storm drew near,

"You... are... mine," was all he'd hear,

As wooden feet and flesh entwined,

Their fates forevermore combined.

Now in the night, the house still creaks,

The clatter of strings, the whispers speak,

And Martin’s soul, forever bound,

Waits for the next to be unwound.