A bad night sleep, I did have.
I dreamt of nothing, for I was sad.
The world was spinning and my head was sore,
Confusion bundled through my door.
For who am I, I asked myself,
Just a puppet under a spell.
I cried a bit and then did see,
That under the puppet, it was just me.
I like the thoughts this provoke. Got images of Pinnochio as a puppet with all movements controlled. This is just like a dream where you feel powerless and trapped.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
John, You've summed this up brilliantly, Im trying to communicate the fact were all controlled in some way and that sometimes we loose sight of who we are because life tends to make people puppets if they loose sight of themselves, which in western society today is easy to do.