The Puppet & The Puppeteer

I'm a puppet on a string

being pulled by the puppeteer.

Whose face I cannot see

And whose name

I do not know.

It is a cruel master.

It lets me try to cut the strings,

but then just pulls harder

when it fears I might succeed 

letting me taste freedom,

but never letting me have it.

I'm a puppet on a string

being pulled by the puppeteer.

While my soul

lies in a container.

The longer I'm a puppet

The more of my soul

goes into the container

As I literally become

a shell of my former self.

The puppeteer laughs

knowing I will never be free.