We are all puppets, I'm just the puppette
Who sees the strings.
Dolls going through the extremes,
Posing through life.
.
Sometimes it seems, like a scene
from a movie screen, compromising positions
For the puppeter.
.
Stained glassed eyes staring out, with disdain.
Seemingly disconnected to anything that pertains,
to real life issues and concerns.
.
Positioning ourselves to reach higher beams
While I long for scissors to cut the strings,
prefering to persue my own dreams.
.
Ending procrastinating endeavors,
of being controlled, like the matrix.
Are you to be the one, trapped endlessly
in forever?