A Puppet on a String


United States
34° 7' 2.0496" N, 118° 1' 28.0704" W

Strings descend from open arms
Encompassing my swelled wrists
Love dwells like captivating charms
But underneath, the string twists

Nothing I do is from my own choice
Nothing I say is from my own thought
My mind is broken as is my voice
I find myself undeniably caught

Though he seems kind
His hold is suffocating and tight
He’ll take your soul, your mind
And pull hard on the strings if you fight

My arms feel metaphorically worn
But when I’m distressed and sad
The strings bring me up, reborn
As if he was never bad.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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