Sentient catastrophe,
Can't you see that you've broken me?

The joy received from wicked twists
Have drained all marrow from my wrists
And soon I'll just be skin and bone,
Paralysed by paths you alone condone.

Puppet master, I have no choice
But to repress my emotions,
Since you gave no chord that gives me voice.

Is this what you wished? A hollow life in motion
Unable to rebel against your pulling strings?
Is it because you know what your intention brings?

Thread barer, am I ever free?
Is there ever a loosened grip
That grants my moves identity?

No, like a whip you keep on cracking away,
Tapping into my spine as you lead astray
My standing vessel that has already died.
So to my internal hope, my hands are tied.