My Own Puppeteer

by Molly McMillen

 

Their words seemed to always creep under my skin

Tied themselves neatly around my fingers and limbs

Unbreakable, invisible gossamer strings 

Suspending my skin like flight without wings

Each movement I made was directed as such

Approval commanding with Puppeteer’s clutch

Crippled by desire to appease, to make proud

In my head, all their voices grew endlessly loud

In the depths of anxiety, pressure and strain

Expectations and standards still clouding my brain

I asked myself what was the goal of this life?

Surely not angst, agitation and strife

Then I realized my ailment’s solution was clear 

How this puppet could break from its cruel puppeteer

 

Happiness is our own choice we must make

It is never a waste or a shameful mistake

The true obstacle hides behind our own eyes

It seeps between ears and whispers its lies

Making us forget that we can’t be contained

We’ve the freedom of water condensing to rain

Pride is not born from another’s assent

It can’t be given or stolen nor won, lost or lent

Happiness, pride, fulfillment, success

Incontestable power that sleeps in our chests

With this knowledge strings snapped that constrained my desire

My lungs filled with air and not ravaging fire

To my own fate and dreams I had long held the key

This year I have learned, my SOLE ruler is me.

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