A puppet I was in this world they broke,

Hanging from the strings in the wood arms of oak,

The last toy they had forgotten to break,

I stood tall and proud, even though it was fake,

I tried to be the one to survive,

The manipulation and torture to come out alive,

I survived to listen to her voice as it sings,

Until I found out she was pulling the strings,

How could it be that what kept me alive wanted me dead?

Did it please her to watch me as I bled?

That's when I knew I wasn't the toy as they say,

If I was, I couldn't bleed in this way,

And than one day, I awoken to see,

That girl in my life had betrayed me,

Could it be that the girl who sung,

Was the real puppet on those strings that hung?

How could I think she would ever know how I feel?

If you play with a puppet enough, it begins to seem real.