The Puppet Master

Comments (0) Featured, Issue 6, literature, Poetry, Trending, Writing

By Nora McClellan

My name is Otis C. Dickinson
And I am the master of puppets
I’ve got a special show 
That I planned just for you
No one else can see what I can do
So step right up on my stage
The star of the show must not be late
And who shall we see today?


You.

You are a marionette, subject to my whims
For I hold the strings, I’m in control
I control your hands, your limbs,
The very thoughts in your head
The only thing you own is your soul
And even for that you’ll pay a toll
My voice will echo in your mind
Demanding that its hunger be fed
There are no limits
To what I can make you do,
To what I can make you think

You hear my cruel laugh
When you beg for it to stop
What a fool you are
To think you have any power.
You're nothing without me
Don't you ever forget
I am always in charge
If you fight back, I’ll just grip harder and harder
Tighten my hold til you don’t know
Who you are beyond the puppet master’s control.

You don’t know who you are
But you know who I am
“A monster is controlling me,”
You whisper to yourself.

I feel you pull against me
As you try to make it stop
What a fool I was
To forget about your power.
You pull until the strings snap
And you crawl off the stage
Now you’re in charge
If I fight back, you’ll go farther and farther
Till I can’t see you, till I don’t know
Who I am without a puppet to control.

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