I am a puppet.

I hang from strings,

But thick dark rope

Holding me by my arms legs and heart.

I am being watched.

I am a show, a puppet show.

People laughing at my pain,

My suffering.

I am not in control.

The puppet master pulls my ropes,

And my tears run down my cheeks.

Like Pinocchio,

I want to be a real girl.

I want to do what I want,

Not what someone makes me do.

It should be my life,

But I am a puppet.

I have to live by the masters rules.

But,

One day someone will cut the ropes

And I will be running.

My feet will be pounding the wet ground,

Drowned by my tears.

I will be free.

Not now.

Soon.

For now,

I am a puppet

And I have been puppet strung.