Life is like a puppeteer,
Dangling me close to someone,
And pulling at my strings.
The touch and warmth,
Of someone warm,
And then dangling in the air.
Life is like a puppeteer,
Tempting me at every turn.
Getting tangled up again,
Then cutting off my strings.
If puppets had a heart and felt,
The nearness of someone warm,
The sadness of it all,
When put away for another show.

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