My family begins at the end of a puppet's string
Hanging from giant hands.
Controlled movements make for misconceptions
And dangerous contemplations.
The puppeteer's whimsical remedies
Play on the years we've spent standing in quick sand.

My family begins at the bottom of the ocean,
Fed potions by mystical sea creatures.
This show features fallacies lost in forgotten tragedies.

My family ends in the Earth's atmosphere,
Gearing up for outer space we begin to face our worst fears.
Growing older, we've either put the show on hold or
It's weighing on our shoulders like heavy boulders.
The Earth quakes as we take off to places with no names.
And yet... we're still attached at the hands and feet with puppet strings.

(Written 6/10)