Classmate Response #2

Random Impulse #5

Puppet Master

Hope is the strings
that keep me holding on
like a mere puppet

The hands are yours,
shaking as they do,
too afraid to put me down.
Spinning in circles
while the strings intertwine
between love
and hate

Dancing on the stage
in front of the crowd,
yet dying behind closed curtains,
as I am becoming broken
from being tossed around
for too many years.

Once I am near
to the end,
you find me shredded into
shattered pieces,
the strings almost ripped
all the way off again,
and so you pick me up,
analyzing every way to handle me,
still too afraid to drop me.

Slowly you paint my smile back on
and glue together the broken pieces.

Just as I start to come back to life
you feel relieved.

Then once again
you drop me.