Puppet Master

I am controlled by the Puppet Master.

The puppeteer, the bipolar,

The strings, the mood disorder.

Today I am not a cheater,

But there’s always tomorrows plans of the puppeteer.

You look into my big blue eyes,

Say I Love You as I act surprised

I always do, they always do.

On the outside I am everyone’s dream.

They fall, so deep in love with my mystery.

For the puppeteer does not show my strings.

I move when he moves my dreams and things.

One moment I am here

Then, I am no longer there.

At first this seems, to you, magical.

You find the elusive dream of me beautiful,

Perfection in moving in unison in our embrace.

But now, now a single tear rolls down my face.

You puzzled. But I know it is already too late.

For the puppeteer has sealed your fate.

Entangled in my strings and on his stage,

You trapped now in the reality of my cage.

The strings now force you to see too the other side,

Only the lucky escape with their lives.

However, the Puppet Master embraces the lucky’s hearts for all eternity,

And evilly replaces only the beauty of me in it’s memory.

I beg, denied,

Why. Why the Puppet Master hides.

This nightmare continues,

And I am repeatedly abused.

My rage begins to grow larger while internally I quietly fray.

I pray, plead, pleasure at the thought of death no matter the way.

The puppeteer now lures one in who,

I see differently and look at confused.

I pull at my strings desperately,

But to no avail, I cannot become free.

The same story only the puppeteer knows.

He sees how my heart for this one grows.

Once in my strings, we marry.

My tears cannot relieve the guilt I carry.

Everyone, even I, mistake my tears for tragedies upon me inflicted.

Instead, I weep for my husband who is now in bed with the wicked.

My internal rage is too much to bare,

For forcing this upon those souls who care.

I explode and implode all at once.

Still, still no one understands my plunge.

Covered in splintered tears,

Ravaged by my darkest fears,

Upon a broken stage apologizing for my failures,

Unable to defeat the Puppet Master’

I hear a soft whisper.

Turn my head slightly to see my Master,

Glaring, familiar, staring back at me,

Is my invisible disease.

I whisper in the dark Where do I go from here?

And it replies in my soft whisper that I cannot hear.