My poems

Puppet

Strings attached to me.
A smile stitched across my face
Needles in and out of me
Sow an eye and nose on me.
Give me a pair of arms and legs.
A life is scripted for me

I was an ordinary puppet.
Forced to be laugh at.
I grew sad but continued to to perform with my lips stappled into a grin.

Everyday I was on a stage
And I enjoyed the attention for a short while.
Until my strings got old and the clothes too tight.

They told me they didn't care if I was uncomfortable.
I had preform,
That was my only purpose.

My legs started to fall off.
My smile dropped as my buttons disappeared.
Yelled and criticized for not being the perfect doll.

I was the entire freak show's punching bag.
Fire-breathers spat their swallowed flames at me.
The tightrope walkers would plunge me to the ground from stories high.

Yet, that is the purpose of a puppet, only to serve as a slave and to do the master's biding.

We all have puppets and some of us are puppets, some just don't know it.