Puppets

There are many kinds of puppets,
Some are finger puppets,
Others might be puppets on a string,
Blue puppets, green puppets,
Pink puppets, orange puppets,
The variety is gargantuan,
But most puppets,
Are covered in red paint,
Lying on the stage,
Motionless....
While the puppeteers are no where to be seen,
All the little puppets,
Why are they shattering?
The two puppeteers,
They seem to be trying to outdo each other,
What can they gain from this?
The puppets are breaking,
They don't care,
The puppets fall down and just stop moving,
More and more and more fall,
Faster and faster the performance continues,
The puppets keep falling,
Bang!,Crash!,Smash!
And it stops...
A messy heap of mutilated puppets lines the stage,
Many missing limbs, Others completely ruined,
The puppeteers come down to the stage and bow,
Standing on the huge pile of discarded puppets,
No puppets left,
The audience explodes with applause,
The puppeteers bow and leave the stage grinning,
Off to prepare for the next performance,
The curtains close, the lights dim,
And all that is left, are those,
Puppets still with strings,
Ready for the next performance,
But all of the puppets without strings,
Are torn to shreds,
Lost, forgotten,
Dead....