The Inner Walls

The inner walls of that universe called a life, Hold within not only the stormy seas of strife, But serene mountain lakes where only silence reigns: A master wall of rage with tears that come from rains. The puppeteer on the outside whose strings employ, Who tugs and pulls with little hooks the helpless toy, Plays the fool for the fools who choose to blindly see, That the mime of life is but a shipwreck at sea Within the chambers we find doors but have no keys, We are pushed by voices and tones that seldom please, To do what we hardly want, to deny who we are, Commandments to obey, dictates from stars afar Who is in charge of the ineptitude of self? What hands, by what right was this code typed in stealth? In the audience a man stares at the puppet, The muppet, with a grin, knows nothing can stop it