Sometimes I wonder late at night
if I am a character of author's pen
here to act out a certain role
unaware of scripted circumstance.
I'm sure there is a higher one
the master to which I conform
every word or move conveyed
as emotions are thus displayed.
Others may say that I am the fool
spouting words molded by the muse
controlled by a higher source
who cares little for my propriety.
I waltz the scripted dance
like a marionette pulled by strings
strung above my head through the air
to the coach of stilted steps.
Emotions will be scrawled on my face
across my heart the levers pulled
in reaction I jump to feel again
too predictable to be bona fide.
To escape is a distant dream
considered when the boss is away
not be had because I'm betrayed
by habits wrote to my soul.
I wish I'd play a better role
than foolish human out of control
but this is what the master wants
and to their orders I must comply.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160615.