The puppet
I am not your puppet
You can’t pull my strings
I will only dance
To the tunes that I play
Arms and legs sometimes freeze
I can’t pull my own strings
Paralysed by fear
I am the puppet
And the puppeteer
So I take a knife
And I cut those strings
They were holding me back
But now my spirit soars free
I lose myself in the rhythm
Of the up tempo beat
As I clap my hands
And stamp my feet
Anne Deborah Morgan
October 2009
poem by Anne Morgan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
