Marionette Melancholy

By Cliff Lake

 

Marionette Melancholy

 

The puppets morosely gather,

Their strings clutched in their hands,

Waiting for Master’s arrival,

To begin the dysfunctional dance.

What words will they be made to speak,

Nothing is left to chance,

Which way will they now move their feet,

Entangled in circumstance.

 

Unhappy marionettes,

Caught up in a string of lies.

They dance in the slow spiral,

Empty intentions undisguised.

See them jerked around daily,

Their feet nearly always ungrounded.

See them spin and jump when told,

See them spew the tales unfounded.

 

What do these instruments seek,

Do they have any goal in mind?

Or are they merely played with,

And discarded for better toys in time?

Will they meet satisfaction,

Will they achieve their ends?

Or will they be tossed aside at last,

With no hope for amends.

 

Do not feel for these little puppets,

This is the choice they made:

To be manipulated wholesale,

And live in another’s shade.

They allowed the threads to snare them,

To invest in deeds misbegotten.

They gave up their identity willingly,

To be used and then forgotten.

 

Cliff Lake 4/19/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Location: Washington, DC, USA

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