Marionettes 🎭

Suspended and tied

Precise but languid

A rag doll on twine 

Stuffed with anguish

Limp are our limbs

Void are our minds

Controlled are our voices

Practised are our lines

Wrists sore from the binds

Move with affected poise

Determined not by the doll herself

But by the master of the toys

The devious master skulks

Slinking wherever we trod

Bleeding into the backdrop 

Hands forever clasping the rod 

With one swift pull 

The puppet swerves

With a couple fierce tugs

Like a crushed petal, she curves 

The tailor stitches garments

Artists paint the porcelain face

Like a dying flame, she succumbs

To the master of this tragic race

The master instructs 

Commands the doll where to go

Orders her to follow the herd

To crumble and bear the blow

'Who is this master?' we wonder

Some shall never know

Perhaps the astute, the wise

Won’t sink like a fading echo

The master is the people

Their voices like the twang of a bow

Their expectations grip our strings tight

So tight, it’s gruelling to let go

Like a witted star, she’ll cascade

Into the depths of the minuet

A pleasing porcelain facade 

A pawn; a marionette 

Marionette