Puppet Strings Poem by Mellissa E. Borth

If I didn't wonder, didn't wait,
didn't stop or hesitate,

who would I be but a toy?
That chuffs along lacking joy.

Then raises wooden arms up high,
Without thought, to praise the sky.

Might I never learn to live,
with no wonder to take or give?

And really what sort of life it would be
to race about but never see.

I wonder if I could even think,
When on my face is colored ink,

And on my knees are wooden plates,
And in my head are metal grates.

And in my eyes which never look,
All holds them in is a single hook

The strings wound 'bout my wrists and waist
to the ceiling can be traced.

They pull me up, decide my life
So I shall never face that strife.

But all my choices I shall make,
And fear for all that is at stake

Because my life is mine to write,
I shall hold on very tight.