puppet on a broken stage

On a stage of splintered wood I stand, Bound by strings, not by my hand. The lights dim low, a flickering glow, Who pulls the threads? I’ll never know. Voices whisper, sweet and cruel, Each word a blade, each lie a tool. They smile and nod, but I feel the weight— A tightening noose, a twisted fate. Every move, not mine, not true, A dance I never wanted to pursue. Am I the player or the prey? In the shadows, I lose my way. The stage creaks, cracks beneath my feet, A hollow echo, a cold deceit. I see their masks, their hollow stares, But none reveal the truth they wear. Who do I trust, when every face Is carved with lies, devoid of grace? Each puppet grins with hollow eyes, And every breath is laced with lies. The strings grow tighter, pulling deep, In every silence, monsters creep. They twist my mind, they tear my soul, Until I’m just a broken whole. The spotlight flickers, fades to black, I reach, I fall, there’s no way back. Yet still I dance, a puppet’s plight, Lost in the dark, consumed by fright. Will I escape, will I survive? In this shattered world, can I stay alive? Or will I break beneath the weight— A puppet lost, a twisted fate? The strings are sharp, they cut, they tear, But I keep thriving.