A Puppet Without Strings
A Puppet Without Strings mindfulchaos stories

katkat_397 TheFrenchWordForPassionne (Impassioned)
Autoplay OFF   •   a month ago
This is a poem I wrote as a sequel to ‘A puppet on five strings’. Being connected to someone in such a deep and significant way that your every word and action is dependent on theirs and their reactions is no way to be. It is true, as humans that we need someone in some way or another, but not like that, it does not determine our life. It blinds us, it does not lead us. This time this piece is about that. It is about the power that someone can hold over you that can make you so weak, and the constant battle to want to break free and then finally breaking free of that. You can be independent and still be safe and loved without them, you do not need to be connected to someone like this, not ever. The choice you make to break free may be the hardest challenge you may ever face, but it is much worse to stay and give someone your all when they give you nothing time and time again. Never stay because it is easy. You do have enough strength. And, when you are finally ready to find someone again do not let them take you captive like this. Be your own person and stay strong, let them fall in love with you for you and please stay you. The right person will let you be and be by your side throughout that, and you will do the same for them.

A Puppet Without Strings

I am a puppet without strings.

I am held up by nothing, not you anymore.

Each fragile handmade string that you crafted together that could not hold me forever.

I got a voice finally, but I did not need to ask you 'what did I do?' because what I did was not justifiable for what you did.

I did not need to say, 'I am sorry' because it was not just me that should have been sorry.

Your words carried my motions for so long for I wished to please you.

I was held up on those strings not because I wanted to but because they were at first hard to escape, I was attached to you.

The strings were thread through your hands and you selfishly would not let me go.

The needle that threaded those strings rose from the surface to detach me, and the scars were fresh wounds, creating my voice, my motion, my story.

My thoughts became present, into a life that was mine, that should have always been mine.

You had a choice.

The pain that announced a hold of your life did not always have to.

You had a choice and you still chose this.

I fought in a desperate plea to chase my life back and still you did nothing.

You waited too long.

I waited too long.

My desperation grew.

I had it too you know, but I chose differently.

I am not attached to you anymore.

I let each significant string detach and it hurt, scars appearing all around me, fresh wounds of misery.

My legs were freed, my two hands, my head is a work in progress.

The other body parts are significant.

It burns.

You ignited me to destroy me and I did feel different, so I did something about it.

I will not be invisible to you anymore; I was right in front of you!

I do not need you to hold me anymore.

I can hold me up around every significant body part.

I cut them and it did not kill you.

You did not bleed out.

I did not die.

I did not bleed out.

I became full of life, and without your words to carry my words or my motions.

I should have never been held up on those strings and attached to you.

Your hands are free of me, wipe them away.

The needle has risen and what will you do?

My story is mine.

You do not have the right to tell anyone and the people that matter will know.

It was never a fairy-tale really, and if it was it was short lived, overcome by a nightmare.

Your thoughts were carried away, into a life that you delicately crafted.

I ignite and I feel so different.

I am so powerful that I stay.

I will burn right through you.

No wind can pull me away and I will stay right here in this world.

I can be whole again.

I had a choice you see.

The five strings were my life, held captive by you but no more.

My words.

Only mine to speak.

My motions.

Only mine to move.

My love.

Only mine to give.

My delicate craftsmanship.

Only mine to explore.

My belonging to this world that you cannot take away.

My life to live.

A puppet without strings.

It is not a show, a story, a fairy-tale or a nightmare to be told.

It is just me, without you and it is so freeing.

Copyright (c) by Kathryn Jenkins.

All rights reserved.

Thank you for reading! Please comment, any feedback including constructive criticism is always welcome!

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