Nishtha Trivedi

Nishtha Trivedi Poems

The Best Poem Of Nishtha Trivedi

Strings

The finger moves,
the strings stretch,
with a smile plastered on his face,
the puppet obeys.

Its limbs moved,
and pushed and pulled,
and the puppet made to obey,
to comply with its master,
by simple strands.

How, I wonder,
this little charade works -
that thin threads in those unworthy hands
come to possess a power so great?

A power over another being,
over his body and his actions
but most importantly, his mind
enslaved mysteriously by one,
earlier disguised as an equal,
but today, his puppeteer.

How fascinating, yet so very strange
is the power of those mere strands!
Those controlling fingers,
feel glorified, like God,
to direct the lives of others,
in a way that only resembles
the devil.

In reality, delusional, drunk with power,
the narcissist stands tall
with childish faith in his invincibility -
makes his puppet dance.

Moved slyly by unseen fingers,
on strands so thin, almost invisible from afar,
the puppet seems to be doing it all on his own,
a slave of those with an invisible strength,
never able to express,
never able to break free,
never able to escape.

An innocent soul
caught in the spider’s web,
a slow poison running through him,
stuck, before he could think,
trapped, enmeshed, now he never will.
first tempted, tantalised by false
dreams of friendship,
now forced a slave.
Stripped of his will,
his mind torn apart,
unable to find reason,
as his own identity ceases to exist,
he smiles, for there is no alternative,
caught forever,
in strings.

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