The puppeteer pulls the strings again.
Her smile widens, unwittingly.
The rigmarole of innocence,
an acceptance of a lifetime.
An ignorant fool she wishes to be,
it's a story she has no part in;
a character she's entrusted with,
a muted performance to be delivered.
She aches to tell the puppeteer,
"There's no one here to applaud.
Come out from behind the smoke-screen
and let go of the strings that bind me.
Go on, build that new stage you wish for.
I want no part in it."