Behind the Scenes

November 16, 2011
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puppet master.
you are.
while i'm being flopped around by the likes
of your dreams at dusk.
the ones you used to whisper
when i was submersed in water.

puppet master.
you are.
strings pulling me up
at the same time tying me down.
don't neglect the sides of my mouth
or you will see it tremble from
trying to smile

puppet master.
you are.
feet barely touching the ground
all to please the one who has everything.
putting on a show, for
your laughter or frantic desperation?
and you thought i didn't know.

no matter how hard
i try to fight
against the colorful, blinding glitter.
still unable to cut the strings in that
i know you own me
i know this by the vibrations from fear
that course through my body
in my blood.

what if you let go?
and i tumble, scraping my knees
on the stairs leading away from the wooden stage
my wooden body splitting open to
reveal that i have
no lungs, no brain, no heart

would i even blame you?
you might be a puppet master

but marionette
i am.

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