the puppeteer will push and pull
at the stolen strings welded to my limbs
one up, one down, spin round then round
your staggered motions dizzies me

the puppet boy will dance and sing
with a voice-box that does not belong to him
pitch high, pitch low, seasick vibrado
your wavering wails strain me

the audience will cheer and shout
in the sea of spectators they swim in
screams loud, screams soft, reverse from the top
your oppressive noise blinds me


i am the puppeted boy who’s driven by everyone but me
for when i cannot sustain my own limbs
other people decide my fate for me