A puppet with no strings,
Left hanging limp,
All senses cut off,
Out of control.
No longer can it dance,
Nor sing, speak or laugh,
But now a victim of its mind,
To wander the halls of mem'ry.
Able to hear but not reply,
Able to question but not ask why,
And now forevermore will be,
A puppet of its mind.
YOU ARE READING
Puppet
PoetryThis poem is about a person with motor neurone disease and their struggles.
