Puppet Master / by Diane Arrington


We live behind curtains in puppet shows,

And we are characters, marionettes;

Laughing faces you always see and know,

But our hearts- forever dismal and wrecked.

Controlled by strings, we are falsely portrayed-

You only see us dance and play all day;

When the curtain shuts and the spotlight fades,

Our tears fall, and we cry the night away.

I can’t move; escape is not an option

But I am forever stuck where I stand;

The audience sits still, plagued by caution

Silenced in chairs, they don’t offer a hand.

Shows go on; we find a way to survive

Cut the strings, we can escape from our lives.