The Puppeteers Puppet

I am a puppet,

I dance to the song sang by others,

And play out the stories they tell.

I am pulled and manipulated by the puppeteers we call society,

By the people I say I love.

You glee at the sight of me mindlessly following your every instruction,

A sick sense of accomplishment with each string you pull,

Endlessly abusing your control over me,

Making me pirouette deeper in a building sea of hate.

I dance for you,

I move for you,

You give me life.

But I am not without soul, without thought, without heart,

I am alive.

Your craze for control makes sure I am never heard,

You bind me with endless strings,

Demands, wishes, requests, obligations, regret, respect, guilt.

I suffocate under your rule,

Unable to break free or speak up in defence.

You make me feel small and powerless,

When in truth without me you have no show.

So you bind me,

From seeing,

From speaking,

From being me.

Until all I am,

Is a faceless wooden puppet,

Moving along to your every whim,

In silence,

Broken,

And trapped,

For all eternity.