Once again, there you are.
Poking your head around the corner,
watching every move I make,
and using me as yet another experiment.
You pull the strings
in this wild, complex relationship,
and I cannot help but to wander
what would happen
were I to cut them.
Would I stand tall and alone,
no strings needed?
Or would I fall,
crumpling to the earth,
shattering my chances at life?
One day, Mr. Puppeteer,
I shall find the answer,
and your puppet will be puppet no more.