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The Marionette

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The Marionette

Here stands the marionette,
Its limbs held slave to its master,
Every impulse controlled externally.
No sovereignty over itself.

A simple play thing to ruling hands,
Only a mere toy in the eyes of God,
The subordinate to a will not its own.
Ill attempt of the living soul.

A painted smile graces its face
Eyes are drawn full of life
Our marionette does its dance
Following each action of the master

Regal clothes and painted gold
Hide the marionette's truth
That the glorious shine in its eyes
Is property of a dying youth

Beneath the gilded shell of royalty
Are tears and tales of sorrow
Being only able to dance his way
Into a dark hopeless morrow.

The marionette plays our game
No matter what the task,
But a free life and happiness
Is all it wants and asks.





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