The Sprout

Puppet

Posted by Sambow from Cardiff - Published on 18/04/2010 at 10:41
3 comments » - Tagged as Creative Writing

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From every genius to every muppet,
I find a being just like my own.
To be encased, I am a puppet,
hung and drawn, not heard, just shown.

From every show to every quiet night,
I find myself wandering alone.
I can’t find a place that just feels right,
so I must continue, lest I cry or moan.

From every smiling girl to every sour man,
I find I am a tool of entertainment and joy.
I watch and observe and do the little I can,
for the one day when I am no longer a toy.

From every pig to every dame,
I find I’m struggling to keep up my smile.
Although it’s painted on to keep up my fame,
It feels like I’ve been crying awhile.

I watch through my window, my stand, my post.
I watch the travellers go by.
I watch for a reason, a calling, a host?
I ask the question, why me? Why?

From every genius to every muppet,
I find a being just like my own.
To be encased, I am a puppet
Hung and drawn, not heard, just shown...