The world is the stage, and society is the puppeteer.
Strings commanding my action,
Taking charge of my movement.
Dolling me up pretty to perform to the masses,
My smile is plastered and eyes are blank,
Suspension cords directing me when to prance,
And when to remain still.
But if the twine could snap,
Letting me free-fall weightlessly,
The stage dissipating into dust,
The audience and lights fading to dark.
My imagination triggering the senses,
Thoughts can only liberate.
Dreams of a night inviting and daring.
The streetlights of London beaming like the stars overhead,
The North star beckoning me to come-
‘X’ mark the spot-
In heaven’s treasure map,
A loot reversed for dreamers.
Somewhere far past reality,
A boy in green flies right beside me.
Arms spread out like a bird wing,
The clouds intoxicating the air I breathed-
Below us laid an land of mysterious,
A realm of possibility and juvenility.
Where mermaid ditties,
Blended in with pirate shanties.
Out in the open pearly seas.
Where Indian’s roaming the plains freely,
And Lost boy jump and play in the sun gleefully.
No strings or audience to appease,
But fairy dust to set my destination.
No more demands from superiors,
When I declare my proclamation-
Society had been my puppeteer for far too long.
But if the twine could snap one day-
The stage would island and the sun my spotlight.
My will being the conductor of my life,
My chooses a making of my own.
Where the only puppet in the show,
Is one from my own fantasy.