-puppet-
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Daily Poetry #29, February 26, 2017
Word: Puppet
Please,
know that
this isn't
the only me.
I didn't mean to
hurt anyone before,
I wish you could understand.
The one controlling this me, they
never cry, never show sympathy.
Please, I'm not a bad child, I wish you
knew, but I've already hurt you so much.
Marionette lifts up my joints without
remorse for the mask it wears, or me.
I cry out, hoping that one day,
someone would come along and
help me, but it's fruitless.
Lowering my head
and cowering like
the scared child
I am, I
simply
cry.
I
ask the
puppeteer,
“What kind of tale
will I have to tell?”
As the author of the
story, I cry out, for there
is nothing for this me to tell.
On the stage, the puppeteer cries as
well, for there is no content in this tale.
Marionette smiles at me as the
mask on my face crumbles away; it's
the start of a clumsy story.
“Let's both continue this tale,”
Those are the words I've been
waiting to hear for
so long. I smile,
for I don't
need this
mask.
Copyright © Frisk Carris | Year Posted 2017
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