Puppeteer- a poem

I wrote this about a month back, when some forgotten emotion surged within me and against my full cognition maneuvered me to the computer keys just like a puppeteer. Though I can’t recall what or why this came to be, I’d like to share it anyway.




Rising like bile through my body

Silent and undetectable,

Is the migraine of the spirit

And the purge of my security:

A voice that threatens an appearance

In this masterful theater stage––

Cords dangling from the ceiling and maneuvered

By a puppeteer drunk on his tears.

But I am mute.

And the audience is blind.

My frown goes unnoticed in the darkness

That hugs my body like a cloak.

My limbs are forced here and there

Moving to the dialogue of someone

Else’s plot. Unrevised and turbulent.

And the will left inside of me shakes with it.

It is a work of madness

That plays on my agitation,

And in which the ropes that restrain me

Are of my own spineless design.


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