la marionnette.

Brittle bones that can barely hold the weight of my inadequacy.
Lungs filled with glass, vocal chords that only speak carefully chosen words.
Strings attached to my meaningless limbs, a tawdry frock whose garishness I detest.
A painted smile, a mask I cannot, dare not crack.

I am a marionette.
My master is a harsh one.
"Dance, dance!" she cries.
All I want is to sleep.
Sometimes I think I'd rather be dead, than alive through her maneuverings.

{Distorted carnival sounds;
Bright and coloured lights that whirl.
A carousel that never stops,
A ferris wheel stuck at the top.}

"Dance, my puppet! Danse, ma poupée!"

On the stage with the blinding lights, the insincere music never ceases.
My dance of my deceit never ends.
All in hopes to please the audience that I'm afraid to look at now.

The hands that fashioned me were gentle,
I remember them faintly, faintly.
My creator made me with a purpose!
I remember his kind voice told me.
He put something of himself in my heart.
I can still feel it pulsing, pumping his life into me those times when I want death.

I wish I could have stayed with him,
directed by his wise hands
But someone... someone thought they knew better than my creator.
That someone thought they could control me better than he ever could.

So, I jerk and bob to the unrelenting commands;
Too broken to make things right.
Forever to be haunted by this knowledge:
The someone who holds my strings,
the someone who controls my actions.... is no one but myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{I wrote this yesterday when I was supposed to be doing school, hehe. A lot of my writing seems to get done when I'm supposed to be doing other things... like sleeping! Ah well.
And while, yes, this is allegorical, it is not a representation of how I'm feeling right now. I just don't want anyone to worry about me; I'm fine! Admittedly though, I have felt this way in the past.}


{Image found here.}