Puppet Master

Puppet Master

Lifeless soul still wakes everyday.
The pain of already knowing,
Today waits no different than yesterday,
She only knows one performance:
The performance engraved deep within
Dangling puppet hanging by one last string
Sheltered by hollow layers,
She has never had the chance to be exposed
But yet she knows there is more,
More than what she has performed,
More than what she has received
As he pulls each string,
Her spirit stirs in
The question of her true being,
But he believes,
For he sees through what is penciled in
He lifts her with his strength
And he prances her with his soul.
The audience is filled with laughter
But there is only one—the puppet master