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 May 2014
Wuji
I am a puppet,
Here are my strings.
This one's for my mouth,
And this one's for my wings.

You can make me fly,
Fly,
O so high, in the sky,
Till I die.

You are in control,
Just the way you like it I'm sure.
Making me do tricks,
Getting all of your sick kicks.

You stand above me,
With your fidgeting fingers.
Making me dance around,
To your favorite singers.

Make me jump,
Make me fly,
Make me happy,
Make me cry,
Make me crazy,
Make me high,
Control where I look,
With my eyes.

I do your biding,
Like it or not.
I'm addicted to your control,
Like some are to ***.

I feel like,
It'll be this way till I die.
Yet you drop some scissors,
What are you trying to imply?

But now I found the scissors,
And you know what I'm going to do?

Snip,
Snip,
Cut,
Cut,
And,
TADA.

I'M FREE FROM YOU.

Although,
I didn't really think this through...

Because before I knew,
It I fell to the floor.
Like an overdosed,
Ritalin *****.

Lifelessly alone laying,
On the ground.
The only thing I hear,
Is your fake laughing sound.

So there I lay limb over limb,
Not knowing where to go.
Then to my dismay,
You mange to cause me even more woe.

For beside me,
A new puppet takes my place.
And your once gentle hand,
Comes down on me, and I am erased.  

Now I think,
I miss your strings.
And all of your,
Cute little things.

I might have been a puppet,
But I loved my master.
Until she got bored,
And caused this disaster.

I loved a disaster,
Which was my master.
But what should I know?

I am just a puppet.
A puppet is no good without it's strings.
 May 2014
Geetha Raj
Fate, the absolute tyrant -
Brings me to my desk,
And I sit down to vent
This infernal night,
As prose or verse,
Or utter hogwash -
My wasted emotions -
Which some termed rhapsodic.

I promised myself not to cry -
As the day would dawn,
And I'd wheel down the aisle.
Making myself fall prey -
To another trade
Of cash and silver and solid gold,
A car and bungalow and so much more
- Of which in detail, I wasn't told.

Though I was called a beauty
Who could leave people dazed,
With two curvy dimples,
That lit my pretty face.
People never touched me
And would look at me with shame
Tell me I looked fragile
Once they knew I was lame.

I grew within four walls -
Comfy cushions and space
And it wasn't my legs, feeble
That restricted my pace.
It was love from parents
Siblings' scorn and care
That kept me from the wisely world
To go outdoors, I never dared.

I grew up crawling on my limbs
And seeing people walk
I never wished for them to stop -
Only prayed that they wouldn't talk!
For it was not their legs, I longed for
I reveled for what I was!
I only hoped they applied thought
Before pitying, how crippled I am!

I grew up watching the world go by
Each day and night would fly
Fantasizing with what I had been blessed -
My free and 'abled' mind!
I dream of a world - filled with trust
And friends who would 'walk' with me
Who would talk to me for who I was
And not offer sympathy!

I wished for love,
And found mine, divine
In a fairy tale -
Ironic indeed!
I sang love songs,
Wrote mushy poems
Painted wild dreams -
All to him, which would eventually lead.

You must have known this little boy -
Though a flaw, he did make history.
"Pinocchio", he was fondly called
And was known as a puppet with zeal!
It was not his quest for love that struck
Nor his zest to live
For it was his gait with wooden legs,
In which I could identify me!

But my dreams were thwarted
When to a man, I was entrusted -
(Or rather, on me thrusted)
One - with no love, but legs instead.
Along with blessings
For him to take along
Ample gifts were bestowed -
To keep us betrothed!

And now I await
To be proclaimed his wife
In the presence of a world
Which always kept me deprived.
It will be dawn
And I will soon be gone -
Yet I will yearn
For my Pinocchio to return!
Written on 12th January, 2011.
The dowry system is a bane of India.
Relationships - built on money, gold and property - crumble as long as the wealth wears out.
I wonder why we don't have the guts to stand up and say I will live with what I earn!

— The End —