Puppeteer (Poem)

What if each of us is a doll
With the puppeteer sitting high above
Manipulating our movements and thoughts
What a fun game this play of dolls!
He controlls our movements
And our thoughts:
I want my hair dyed bright blond...
Where is my little comb?
He checks if we looks acceptable
The girls wearing bright dresses,
And the boys fighting with wooden swords.
He throws away broken toys -
They've commited suicide,
Or have been killed
Says the police doll in court.
He is an old man with a wrinkled face
His eyes are a pale blue and gray
His smile is crooked
And his nose is big
His jokes are really vile
But the children like him still
For no one else can make the dolls look so human
No other puppeteer can play with them so well.
The thin ropes are invisible
And the little human dolls do everything by themselves.
The puppeteer thinks himself master
How many lives he suddenly controls!
It's a shame that he, too, doesn't know
That is also a puppet, a doll
And a puppeteer above is contolling the
Puppeteer's world.
Category:Poetry
Category:Axanda
Category:DraculaFan