Plaything No More

Back in the day just a wee lil’ thing
Not boy or girl, a tiny thing
Plaything with no identity  
Beyond the slack in the puppet strings
And all the time just dreaming of using wings
Until owning the freedom to be no mere plaything  
Looking up to answers from praying
Through floods of salty panicked tears
Anointing an angel on the wings
Passion’s fire makes plaything no more
Burning off the puppet strings  
To serve those holy angel wings
 
You know your calling  
Your gifts among men
If you stop falling
From tangled strings  
You will live it out
Have your trumpet shout
Find another way  
Than being a plaything  
on somebody's strings  

(To the ones who watched me unfold
Without welcoming my true self into the fold)
 
Were you protecting or resenting
The fascination of my collector
Or were you blind to my pain presenting?
playing along like I had no identity  
How did you drown out your own pity?
I always thought of you as fragile shelter for me  
Needing faith and my cheerful facade
As I confessed my love for you and our God  
I didn't see you pulling on my strings  
Or faithfully binding up my wings
 
How could you see
you prepared no future for me?
No passion in you for what I could be
You learned to love seeing tied up wings  
For more effective puppet strings  
 
I know my calling  
my gifts among men
If I stop falling  
from tangled strings  
I can live it out
Have my mighty shout
There's another way  
Than being a plaything  
on somebody's strings