state of confusion
So you’re the master puppeteer.
Invisible strings they must have been,
jerking me to serve your lowly wishes,
in this pubescent purple costume,
and you, the charming clown-magician.
I smiled and danced then, a marionette
scripted to your spoofing whims,
upon your shiny wooden stage,
a toy theatre lost now in the shadows,
you move my mouth to form silent words.
These tangled strands left me all akimbo,
in limbo, you’d like me to forever dwell,
hanging by filaments of your control.
But, this ain’t no "Punch and Judy,"
and I will cut the cords magnificently.
Ventriloquist calls to me with a swazzle,
all a frazzle, over absolutely nothing.
© 2000 Corinne M. Bailey