A man walks across the darkened street.
His footsteps hitting the ground with rhythm,
producing a monotonous, steady beat
and looking through the colorful, tainted prism.
A woman is sitting on her bed,
reading a novel which she’s read before,
and thinking, what if I’m really dead?
But, she buries herself in her novel once more.
A child is playing in the park,
their mother sitting far behind.
But, before long, the cheery sight turns dark,
the poor child, turns out, is blind.
What they all don’t see
are the strings carrying each of them,
after all, they are one in a large sea
of puppets, who the puppeteer has condemned.