Puppets

we have invisible strings attached to our hearts
translucent cords tied to our limbs
leading up past the clouds in the sky
with the wind whistling haunting hymns
the strings dance and tug
and the cords jerk us forward
starting a gruesome sort of waltz
so beginning an endless torture
painted on smiles and wooden bodies
twirling in unstoppable circles
souls gone quiet
after too many rehearsals
broken eyes with heads hanging low
each figure seems identical
strings bruising our hearts with every tug
the whole scene unethical
some cut their strings
some cut their cords
disconnecting from reality
or completely shutting off their life force
we’re puppets in all but name
clueless to how we’re being manipulated
dancing on strings of our own making
our freedom slowly obliterated
soon our hearts will be made of strings
each one leading to a different noun
our limbs will be covered in cords
dragging our bodies down