It's hung from an anchor on your chest
But only you see where it leads
Yet cannot be touched with hands of flesh
The spirits and gods tug and play as they please
That makes humans pawns or toys
Are we ever free to choose?
That means these gifts we have are not ours but those of our manipulators from afar
Like the puppet we are used
But the thought occurs"Can we cut the string?"
To save us from these horrid beings?
But without them we are naught,
But flesh and bone and mind alone
It makes you wonder "Is this really me?"
It makes you question faithand god,
and whats really right and wrong
Are we truly ever free?
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