The Puppeteer

Some days
I feel like my string is breaking
A string so tattered
So frayed
I’m surprised it still holds me at all
The others
You see
Have all broken
The Puppeteer is starting to lose control
But was he ever really in control?
Maybe, just maybe
He’s been cutting them
One by one
Slicing my strings so slowly
So as for me not to notice
Watching me struggle
Is far more entertaining
Now
I sway back and forth
Looking upwards, I look
At what’s left of my string
For
I’ve found myself
At the end of my rope
So I wa...