would you kindly pull the strings for me dear?
i see you’ve loosened the strings on my corset;
i can finally breathe, yet
i have never felt more dead.
i hope you never cut my strings
don’t rip them from my limbs;
i’d rather have my strings attached
than for you to have ripped out my flesh
you’ve already sewn in my heart
and ripped it out, too
filled me with cotton
make me feel imbued
i am a marionette
you are a puppeteer
if i stop this damn cliche
of an analogy
where you control the everything
will you stop and tell me
i’m not just made of strings?