Puppetier
Pull a string
Tug a thread
Body lifeless
Practically dead
Pull me left
Tug me right
You know I'm worthless
I can't fight
Getting back
Won't ever work out
The most I can do
Is grumble and pout
No 'freedom of expression'
No knowledge to know
I have to keep perfect and plain
Or I won't look good in the show
Master choosing my outfits
Master tightening my strings
Master painting my eyes
Master fixing everything
Perfect white sundress
All pressed and ready to please
Blonde Haired curled and pretty
Perfume sprayed, making me wheeze
Hated words mumbled
Under my invisible breathe
As the curtains are pulled
All eyes peircing, like death
Masters' hand hidden
Pulling me to and fro
Helpless body dancing
Jumping and jerking like a doe
Roaring clapping and laughter
Bury me alive
Strings way to tight
Can't even close my eyes
Muscles feel tight
Yet I still move free
Master choosing my movements
My heart screaming to flee
Unseen tears
Streaming down my porcelain face
Master seeing nothing
I'm just her stupid showcase
Bright painted eyes
Hiding depression and shame
What master makes me do
Pretending I'm a game
But no one really knows
The real, secret me
Every glance that I give
Is a silent, hidden plee
Inside I scream
Growling a cursed blame
I'm actually quite savage
Bull that I'm tame
Master shows me all perfect
She can gloat all she dares
Always acting like
I have no worries or cares
It's actually quite bothersome
Cauase she knows the real me
But she still makes me pain
My fake smiles full of glee
She always whispers to me
'Be quiet. Don't fear.'
But I'll always be the puppet
And she, the Puppetier.
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