Strings - 2011/02/18

With so many strings ready to tug
Who shall control this marionette
He may be mistaken for a real boy
So long as puppeteers dont forget
The joy within his face is unique
Along with the anger that crosses
For he can exist independently of
Story tellers and would be bosses

He entertains with personal flair
Overlooking catcalls of the swarm
On a sly stage fashioned just for
Fast operators who always perform
Whilst the strings remain ignored
Satisfaction stays quite constant
Yet closer do dark handlers creep
Looking to get what he wont grant

So comes the day their hands hold
His power to design and determine
In disguise they attempt to craft
Something to impress their vermin
Yet all they can do is disenchant
While onlookers begin to disperse
As the lust for power and control
Produced a new debilitating curse

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