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When the puppet master dies

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279 words 279 words
What happens when the puppet master dies?
When there is no one else to pick up the strings.
What becomes of us dear puppets?
Now that nobody wants to play.
As dust gathers upon our still frames,
As termites, eat away at the forgotten stage,
Will someone please take us away?
We forgot what it was like to feel a sun’s ray.

When our dear puppet master dies,
Won’t you take his place,
Just as he took the place of the one before him?
Inspired by the grand art that is we little puppets,
We sway here softly, falling to pieces.
Our strings have become an intangible mess.
Won’t you please repair our missing pieces?
Won’t you please untangle our strings?
Our painted faces are peeling away.
What’s left has faded anyways.
Some of us had fallen to the floor.
Fresh wood for the termites I suppose.

Oh, why won’t you just save us already?
Our puppet master is dead and forgotten.
Save us from this wretched fate.
Please before our memory fades!
There are so few of us left.
We don’t want to join the feast below,
A horror to watch my brothers and sisters,
As they disintegrate into nothing more.
What does the sun look like?
We never catch a glimpse anymore.
Never to be on stage no more,
Never to see children anymore.

When the puppet master dies,
Are we to die with him?
I’m the last one left,
Hanging on with my very last string.
I am growing tired
I waited for years now.
The last thread is giving out.
So, I free fall to my end.

Published 
Written by Anonymous
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