Marionette
Capricious as their music constant be,
No justice is delivered to my form,
Carried by chains; forever clinging free
Within the stage unto my doom, perform.
Forever carried by my vines—support,
Attached to limbs of wooden lacquered brand.
Cajoling with my eyes of false rapport,
Allowed to stand in posture—weakened stand.
Collecting cheerfulness is my domain;
A courtesan of smiles; the stage my hall—
Celebratory of my grace, a drain
To history in which I lost my all
Towards the face beneath my masking wood,
My real identity, my constant mood.
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