Puppet and Master
I walk down the sidewalk, the trailway, the road.
My feet move beneath me with no thought of where they are going.
Desperately wanting for guidance but hating the strings attached,
I wander aimless, unmoving.
Day after day,
Week after week,
Year after year,
I go through the motions, never seeing an end.
Is this life?
Is this all that will become of me?
Will I ever take a step in a new direction,
Or will I forever more be trapped in this cycle?
I walk. And walk. And walk.
I say, “Yes, sir” and “No, sir.”
But never once do I hear “Thank you.”
No one ever says “Here, sit down. Take a load off.”
Mother, father and the Big Brother alike constantly shape and move my actions.
They say “Be free, follow your dreams.
...But only within our guidelines.”
There is no me.
No real me, anyways.
There is mother, and father, and Big Brother,
Forming another one of themselves.
In me, through me, and with me.
I am their puppet – they are my masters.
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