The Puppeteer

The show begins
I walk up stage
The Puppeteer pulls at my strings
I’m forced to talk
I’m forced to walk
I’m forced to put a smile on my face and act like everything is okay
But when really it’s not
And The Puppeteer pulls at my strings

I fought The Puppeteer and lost
He pulled me back into his embrace
I can’t escape
Instead he pulls my strings tighter and tighter
Until my feet have left the ground
I’m forced to say those lines as he glides me across the stage
As The Puppeteer pulls at my strings

I look up to face the man that pulls on my strings
But I am taken aback
For The Puppeteer has no face
I don’t know which frightens me more
The fact that there is nothing there
Or the fact that I let The Puppeteer that has no face decide my fate
The Puppeteer pulls at my strings

Will I ever be free?
For I am just a puppet and every puppet has a part
In The Puppeteers play
And The Puppeteer pulls at my strings

I scream
I fight
I go off script
The Puppeteer is pissed
But yet, The Puppeteer still pulls at my strings

The crowd watches me being pulled across the stage but yet they sit there with no expressions on their face
They do not care about the Puppet
Only The Puppeteer and his play
And yet, The Puppeteer pulls at my strings

Maybe Puppets like me aren’t meant to free
Should we stay silent and dance on stage
With painted smiles on our face
To mask the fear
To mask the hate
To mask the pain
That we face every time our strings are pulled
Across the stage we go
With empty faces staring back
Maybe we’re only meant to be pulled by strings
The strings my Puppeteer pulls on me

I have a voice
I just don’t know what to say
So many years I have kept quiet
My voice is almost deafening to my ears
The Puppeteer stops the pull at my strings

I cut the strings
I stand my ground
I square my shoulders
And I shout,
“I have a mind! I have a soul! I won’t be your puppet anymore!”




I'm not really sure how I feel about this one.