Her head holds high
on fish-line taut
with eyes that do not see.
Her arms to each side
never moving, not a motion;
everything is out of reach.
Her feet tread water,
splash clumsily in
but she cannot swim back to the shore.
Once, she was free
without puppet strings, or dark masters;
once, but forever nevermore.
As a kid, there is very little that is worse than being told no. As a teenager, I feel that the urge for independence is even greater. I cannot speak for the adult population, but I can speak from experience. I am a stubborn person. Tell me no, and I’ll do it. Tell me I can’t, and I’ll find a way. I have a bad habit of rebellion, to the point of lying, and cheating, and screaming, and fighting to get what I want. I guess I’m a little more than spoiled.
But what happens when you can’t get what you want? When all your life, you have been guided by the will of others. No control over any situation in your life. As I’ve already said in a previous post, I am petrified of losing control, so the idea of having my life planned out for me by someone else infuriates me.
And so, as an ode to all of the evil puppet masters of the world, and a song of sorrow to all of the puppets, I wrote this. At about two in the morning. While half asleep.