Puppet

Frayed strings, kept in a mass of tangles.

The broken doll refuses to struggle.

With a skillful hand, you unknotted the strings.

You made the doll dance. You made the doll sing.

You were careful at first. Made the doll feel precious.

You strengthened the strings, using love and happiness.

You dyed the strings red, sewing them to your skin.

You convinced the doll that something beautiful was about to begin.

Now, it was all yours. It had no escape.

Your love and affection, all of it, was fake.

You forced the doll to do as you pleased.

You laughed as you watched the poor wretch cry and scream

As you drug it around through the dirt and the mud,

Toss it into the air, then to the ground with a thud.

More cracks and chips formed as it tried to endure,

But it was sure, sooner or later, the doll would be no more.

The doll was trapped. It had no way out.

In a desperate attempt, it turned around,

Wanting to find some way to cope,

But seeing instead, one ray of hope.

No longer staring at the face of its captor,

It was able to see a pair of scissors.

You followed the doll’s gaze, but it didn’t matter.

“You’re too much of a coward.” Your voice shook with laughter.

It hefted the scissors up to its neck,

But you didn’t expect what it would do next.

It raised them up higher and cut all its strings.

Before you knew it, the doll was free.