Strings attached

Playing puppeteer with nimble fingers and old, vivid nightmares

I'm your puppet darling

Strings attached

Center with each, individual, socket

Jaw up

Jaw down

A joke, here and there

But there was no one

No one to tell us that, sometimes being free

wasn't all it was cracked up to be

That it wasn't just sunshine and daises

People lived, people died

We didn't want to be those people

I'm your puppet darling

We grew up believing in everything

Never stopping to consider that our strings were never cut

Never realizing we were still prisoners to the monster we knew as "The Puppeteer"

Rotten wood,

drained carcass'

We were propped up on foot stools, arm chairs.

Jagged knees became our home

Strings having been cut away to reveal a more, insidious agenda

We were too stubborn

Too patient

Too resilient

Too practical

Too forgiving

Too forgetful

And twice as much slaves

Slaves to a cause we supported with all our hearts

What else did we have?

What else could we hope for?

Nimble strings replaced nimble fingers

The nightmares grew exponentially, and finally ceased before anyone noticed they were present in the first place

I'm your puppet darling, don't break me