I was carved for a stage I never chose Painted smiles that I’m forced to show They pull my arms, decide my pose Tell me what I am and what I’ll know My "own" steps are a borrowed move Every word already said They write the things I must approve Even thoughts inside my head Mr. Puppeteer, why hold so tight? Wasn’t I meant to move alone? If I was built to bring delight Why can’t I make that joy my own? Mrs. Puppeteer, you dress my skin Shape the way the world will see But underneath the thread and pin There’s something begging to be me Cut the strings please now Let me breathe somehow I can’t stand this hold Too much weight to hold Let me go, Mr. Puppeteer, I beg release I can’t endure the way you tighten every seam You pull the lines until I tear at every piece Then blame me when I fail to fit your perfect dream Let me go, Mrs. Puppeteer, just let me be You paint my face and call it love so endlessly But all I am is something trapped you want to see A broken doll that never chose its own identity I dream of roads I’ve never seen Of choices that I’ve never made A life beyond this painted scene A self that isn’t hand-displayed But if I fall without your thread Would I collapse onto the floor? Or find a way to stand instead And be much more than just “yours”? Loose the grip right now Hear me say out loud I don’t know what’s next Still I want what’s left Let me go, Mr. Puppeteer, I beg release I can’t endure the way you tighten every seam You pull the lines until I tear at every piece Then blame me when I fail to fit your perfect dream Let me go, Mrs. Puppeteer, just let me be You paint my face and call it love so endlessly But all I am is something trapped you want to see A broken doll that never chose its own identity If I escape, will I still stand? Or fall apart without command? Is freedom worth an unknown end? Or just another way to bend? Someday I’ll run from every string you tie Even if I don’t yet know the reason why I’d rather fall than live a life designed By hands that never cared to hear my mind I’m stuck for now, but something in me grows A quiet will that neither of you knows And when it snaps, I won’t be yours to steer No more your doll, no more your puppeteer
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