A Tangle of Knots

Although I can't see them, I know they're still there  
My own tangle of knots, above this limp and dangling marionette  
 
You see the manipulation has always been there, my whole life  
Truth is, sadly, it remains there even now to this day  
 
In the center are smaller, worn strings from when I was little  
Left there by my parents as they tried to relive their lives, fulfill their dreams  
 
Then there are the ones from friends and peers along the way  
Pressuring me to follow them, reinforce their views, thoughts  
 
Interwoven are the cords from various lovers come and gone  
Who tried to mold me, shape me, turn in into who they wanted me to be  
 
Hardest to the see are the corporate wires, strong and razor thin  
Crafted by the veiled wizards on Madison Avenue to make me insecure, hopelessly seduced, so that I buy their products  
 
Given all of these puppet masters it's not at all surprising  
How hard it has been to be me, be authentic, be real  
 
What with all of this vast conspiracy to make me dance to the tune  
Be the proper little puppet, fall into line, perform on command  
 
I know as you read this you probably think me weak, a tad bit pathetic, perhaps  
But do I need to remind you, there's a tangle above you as well, and just as knotted  
 
If only we could dig down deep, find the courage to be ourselves  
Reach up with the scissors and cut the strings, but we are so afraid to fall ...