Marionette
the marrionette in the box cries itself to sleep each night
its strings worn, its wooden arms peeling
it watches each day the world drift away
from his empty button wooden eyes
the marionette in the box cries, quiet tears of pain
unseen and unheard by the many puppeteers above
but what awaits the marionette once the strings are broken
is what the marionette wants the most
his eyes can grow dim, his arms may now rest
the marionette in the box cries, sleeping tight another night
wishing each day for the box to stay closed
his solice in rest as the dark wraps around him, comforts him
no friends for the marionette, no peace for the puppet
the marionette in the box, a toy crafted with love
who's life seems endless, his heart hangs heavy
he wants to be free but the strings draw him back
in the box though he waits, knowing what the day will mean
hoping his time will come, and peace will set him free