the puppet master

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Possible trigger warning: does hint at self harm

I am just a puppet
Always standing still.
Until somebody picks me up
And pulls my strings against my will.

He is the puppet master.
He has all controll.
He twists and tugs me
As I wait for casting roll.

The crowd begins to clap
He has pulled a new string.
This controls my smile.
See? I look happy.

When he puts me to rest,
Laying in my velvet box,
I pull out a blade.
I must cut these strings, no matter the cost.

I cry out for help,
But no one can hear.
For I cannot speak,
The master is not near.

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