When the Strings Fell

Once I moved where they would guide, A painted doll with nothing inside. Each word rehearsed, each step untrue, A hollow dance the crowd once knew. The strings were chains disguised as thread, They pulled me close, they bowed my head. I longed to run, I longed to fly, But wooden wings can’t touch the sky. Then came the night, so still, so deep, The strings grew weak, they dared to sleep. And with a snap, the silence stirred, I found my voice, my very first word. No master’s hand, no eyes to please, Just open air and breath of peace. I walk alone, yet not afraid, A soul reborn from what was played. For freedom blooms where silence sings, The heart is lighter without strings.