Why do I have to do your bidding?

Why do I have to follow you?

Is it by force?

Is it by force?


Why do you pull the strings?

Why are you self-proclaimed the king?

Have you no remorse?

Have you no remorse?


All I want is to enjoy my life

To live without worry or strife

But my hands don’t belong to me

My feet are not my own

My body doesn’t listen to me

Because you lie on the throne


So all I do is weep and cry

As the sad puppet I am

Waiting for the day I die

Such a sad puppet I am



The Icognito Writer

I am not who I say I am but who my writing says I am; my characters define me. Like puppets in a play, they tell you who pulls the strings. I'm not who I say I am; I'm who you think I am.

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