Must I Be Your Puppet?

Oft times I find myself enraged and numb, Experiencing days akin to more burnt toast. And I, left feeling as a scraped off crumb, Am always running full out, No time to coast. I am like a puppet and you are my puppet master, I'm pulled about like a Western Flyer wagon. You manipulate my strings to move me faster, All the while you're snorting belly fire, Like a Dragon. The mere sight of you evokes thoughts anew, That thought I, long ago to be at slumber. You'd look fabulous in a gunny sack It's true, Your outer beauty cannot be hidden, You've my number. If you were athirst I'd gladly be your spring, If you desired shade I'd try to be your tree. If you sought some expensive gift, that I'd bring, Cut the strings that control my heart, And set me free.