Puppet

I look into my mirror, and I glance at a creature i do not recognise, a loathsome being that I seldom care for. memories of happiness and joy grow ever out of reach. Day by day, the dark puddles under my eyes grow ever larder and deeper. Is this the moment it all ends? I whisper in my own ear, like a spectator to a play; yet I know for certain my puppeteer will not cut my strings just yet.