The Puppet With Tangled Strings

The Puppet With Tangled Strings

They hung me high for the crowd to cheer

Wooden smile carved from panic and fear

Every pull twisted deeper through skin

A puppet outside, a war held within

Fingers above me decided my dance

Stealing my voice with each stolen chance

Knots round my ankles, knots round my throat

Silence stitched tight in the seams of my coat

I learned how to bow before I could stand

Learned how to bleed at another’s command

Applause filled the room like a cold winter storm

While splinters kept pushing straight through my form

One string whispered stay, one string screamed run

One tied me to darkness hiding the sun

Another wrapped tightly around what was true

Until I forgot what belonged to me too

They painted my cheeks with a mockery grin

Covered the bruises still blooming beneath skin

Called me ungrateful whenever I cried

Never once seeing the child locked inside

Then one rainy evening the ceiling rope snapped

The theatre silent, the audience trapped

No hands left to pull me wherever they pleased

Only the ache as my body uncreased

Now tangled strings trail wherever I roam

Like ghosts still refusing to leave me alone

Though slowly these hands are learning their worth

A puppet can fall and still crawl back to earth