Poem: The Puppet Master

We are two beings, each of us

An outside and an in;

The puppet we proudly show the world

And the Master who pulls the strings.

But the Puppet Master, clever man

Conceals so all shan’t see

Hides a truth of sadness or pain

With a face of sun and glee.

For when we’re down he pulls a string

Inside he hangs his head.

Fools them all with a dance of joy

When all that’s true is dread.

He lives there, deep inside at work

Sure they won’t see a trace.

For every time we doubt our dread

He pulls his strings with grace.





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