The Puppet

(The bitter truth within the words of a Puppet.)

From black to white moved around,
Similar to a piece in a chessboard,
Destined to be controlled;
No I refuse to be subdued by,

This puppeteer who holds such passion, and craze for power;
I refuse to be restricted with these chords,
That is vastly profound and impenetrable to the core.
Every second, every minute I get that,

Caprice to break from these filaments that detain me;
Every second, every minute I strive to experience,
The fleeting touch of love like the delicate Cashmere silks,
Or maybe even the symphony in my life,
Which could be never attained by me alone?

The time for freedom is amorphous,
Once given can be regarded as exquisite,
And magical but also very lethal;
Thus, the Deity of all I beseech of you to grant me,

A talisman with your Awe-inspiring immortal powers,
That could present me the,
Wings of freedom and fly to zenith in the cyan sky;
To become another among the formidable,

Because the rules of the jungle still lingers,
In this world where the strong survives and the weak die;
A little piece of advice to you my friend,
A solitary soul can never change the world into a righteous place.

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