Ian L.R. Sanchez
Everyone is moving around me,
Being lead by their strings of faith.
Tying their arms, legs, and head,
By a man without a face.
"They're alive and are fighting"
Is what goes into my head.
But what about me?
Am I already dead?
I'm conscious and am breathing,
I see my strings on the ground.
My legs are useless and I can't get up,
I want to call for help but I can't make a sound
Lying down helplessly,
Watching everyone with envious eyes,
I wait patiently,
Hoping for my strings to rise
Where is my puppeteer?
Have you forgotten me?
Cutting my strings apart
And left me be.
I fear my joints will rust,
Someone help me stand.
But it's as if no one sees my existence -
No one lends a hand.
My mind has grown impatient,
I cannot wait any longer.
I can't lay here and do nothing,
I have to get stronger.
I have to control my own faith,
Fight away my own fear.
Get a hold of my own string,
And be my very own Puppeteer.