The Puppet and the Lamb

Once, I was a puppet
and he controlled the strings.
It was a palid show,
a dark velvet background.
He led me by the ring
on my finger.
But, the day came,
I found the scissors,
cut myself free,
show over folks!
Now, here you are,
attempting another
golden band
in a differerent arena.
Calling me your
precious lamb,
stroking my ego.
But the puppet in me
senses something
familiar...

The sound of a hammer
and the smell of green wood.
This lamb is alert and ready
and this time, I can speak with
my own tongue, and you
won't fence me in!