A puppet's life is sad and dreary,
suspended by old, weathered strings.
His master's hands are old and weary,
suspended by old, weathered strings.
The painted on vibrance of an illegitimate smile,
suspended by old, weathered strings.
Pleasing faces and attire masks a puppets blind denial,
suspended by old, weathered strings.
It danced! It sang! It now collects dust in the attic,
suspended by old, weathered strings.
Stuck in silence, no more fun and no more magic,
suspended by old, weathered strings.
It prays for death with each child's laughter,
suspended by old, weathered strings.
The puppet no more, takes his life with his master,
hung at the neck by old, weathered strings.
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