The Puppeteer Poem by Zoe Adams

There are strings around my fingers
Connected to my heart
Once again they pull and twist
Telling it to start.

I don't control my fingers
Nor do I master my heart;
When they begin to pull and twist
They become the stars.

The strings are tightly binding
But uncomfortable at worst
But they've been clenching more and more
Since I saw you first.

Your eyes they seem to sparkle
With light and joy and life
I'd never cause you, nor her,
Any purposeful strife.

But dear it's getting harder
I just can't carry on.
Heck, now even my mother
Insists that something's wrong.

Because as I watch you, and you her,
The strings are strangling me.
I just want you to know
Quite what I want us to be.

I'm wishing for the sunshine
For an ending to this grey.
Maybe the warmth will thaw me
So I may go on another day.

There are strings around my fingers
But I'm not in charge, I fear.
No, now I see that you, dear boy,
Have become my puppeteer.