Title/subject suggestion by Diana – at ‘the wandering Armadillo’
Puppet with tangled strings
That my voice and deeds were not my own
rendered plaything parts and myself a toy,
seemed fair price paid to be with you alone,
a ‘Lovely’ with an aspect so radiant and coy.
I danced to the tunes you chose to play,
like a puppet, twitching at your every word,
dangling on my strings I could only sway
yours the only voice that poor Punch heard.
A marionette master, dark soul concealed
you had by means unknown bound my wings
and now that your spurious love is revealed
I am left a broken puppet with tangled strings.