Cutting Strings

A plaything,
nothing more.

You tied me with lies:
Hands, feet, jaw.
Mere marionette manipulated by
Puppet Master.
Staged performances nightly.

Dancing by controller command
to music composed
on broken piano
with missing strings.
You held all the keys.

Silent, only able to speak
when fingers pried mouth open,
and then-- only proscribed words
with doubled meanings.
Safer that way.

Tossed in darkened closet
in jumbled heap
of contorted limbs when bored--
until mood surged.
Playtime always staged.

Scissors left in reach
cut skin to cut string.
No support now for the broken.
Wooden movement
is still movement, after all.

Away is a good place to be.
Scars fade as life returns.
Independent movement--dancing forward,
composed. New symphonies created:
infinite choices of music.

I heard your fingers were all broken
in jail. Bones in your hands mangled.
Barely able to even hold a spoon
let alone conduct orchestrations ...
Gods have listened; karma decreed.

You have become nothing
more than a puppet
called to perform at someone else's whim.
Spare parts of little use: still clueless -- now keyless.
Rage, fear drain away; puddle in celled sewer.





No one pulls my strings.

Prompt for: Feb 23 (Fyn/Ren)
Subject or Theme: New Year's are the time to let go off old hurts and attempt forgiveness or a going on in a new light. It might be a huge hurt or a little one.
Word(s) to Include: jumble, key, pry. Use the words I, ME and MY only ONCE each in the poem. (or any derivatives of these words)
Forbidden Word(s): he, she, his, hers. (or any derivatives of these words)
Additional Parameters: Min 24 lines
Remember, do not use forbidden words ANYWHERE, including title or the brief description.