You know what I mean when I say I am sick.
Sick of being controlled through something that really isn’t me.
Pathetic puppet held up by string of what seem like on some day, iron.
Master who has roots as deep as a great oak tree.
Set me free, I scream to sea of eyes cast downward behind cracked glass.

are they just as lost as me?
could they even hear me?

You know this isn’t me, I didn’t mean to scream.
The mass of people should know what I need.
I watch with a slow heart, numb mind and I forgot why I was there in the first place.
Slowly, pairs of stars begin to twinkle at me from behind the same cracked glass.
They all scream the exact same thing as me.