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.