Puppet Poem by din jones

In such a world she roams
A mere actor, playing a part
Hidden beneath the flimsy veil
She dances to the tune, bobbing her head to the beat
Yet her movements are forced, each step is not free
Not free from the artifice, the will of the puppeteer
She is a puppet, playing her part
Despite the semblance of will, there is none
Each step is a coordinated, each motion in line
Yet she will never truly escape
She succumbs to the will of the puppeteer
She plays her part, again and again
Day by day. After a while, the strings merge
She acquiesces to the force
Once she knew this was fabrication
But gone are these days
A great performance, an illusion
At one point this artifice becomes reality
It is the blurring of borders
It is the merging of the land into the sea
It is the instinct murmurs, the swaying to the silent tune,
She no longer knows who she is
Or why she is here
She is just a puppet
A mere victim
To the clutches of the puppeteer