You thought you would try a new thing.
Puppet master.
You took some basic materials,
Thread, cheap wood and a tin heart.
It was all you could afford.
You fashioned a puppet,
From what you saw in the streets,
In magazines,
The puppet became another reflection
Of the outside world.
Like so many others before it.
As you played with the strings
A wind stirred up from inside.
A new force started appearing,
Moving the puppet when you were away,
Trying to halt
Some of your actions.
You watched your puppet grow,
Never giving it “too much” freedom.
After all you had created it.
It belonged to you.
Rust started to form
On its tin heart,
The wood started to creak.
You had not built it to last.
You did not know how to.
You did not even see
It was falling apart.
Master I wanted to make you smile,
I only felt alive when I saw joy spreading out.
Tell me master
Why is there so much pain?
Why is it the easiest thing
For me to feel?
Master, am I dying?
Is this what death feels like?
I am afraid,
My body aches,
My heart is in pieces,
I do not know how to fix it,
You never left me the tools,
You have become cold,
I struggle to find warmth
I realise now how alone I am.
My strings are falling loose.
I am falling.
I wish I could go back into the forest,
To be a tree again.
You and so many others
Would not have it.
I see your tears in my dreams.
I move so that you will not cry.
I seldom see you laugh
Like you once did.
I have failed you master…