Hopping about the stage
with strings sticking out of my edges;
invisible, feeling, tangible, thin
No one believes that a puppet has a heart within
Wood glue may hold me together
and my smile is painted on
But you laugh nonetheless, peeking under my dress
while I dance to my puppet song
When the curtains close at the end of the show
and I'm locked in my box with bars
I cut the strings off
and at you all I scoff
because you can take my footsteps
but you can't take away the scars
Each opening act a little piece of me falls out
stuffing and splinters and my painted dolly pout
Everyone stops, no one believes
you take my barred box
but me, you leave
I may no longer have a face
I may no longer have a place
I may be fabric and glue
but I am free from your choking embrace