Snipping the Strings of the Marrionette

I am like a Marrionette
Doomed to dance onstage,
Singing songs
Never my own.
I thought myself free,
But that's not what I've known.

I hold on m hands
Thick binding strings
That no one else can
Plainly see.
It's the painful cause
Of my every misery.

I look at mirrors
And saw a wooden body,
Carved to their perfection,
But never my own
Or what I want to be.

Then one day the
Puppet master loosened
The strings, and I danced
Less rigid steps, close
Enough to the nearest knife.

I then cut the strings.
I AM NOW FREE.