Puppets

It's my life.
I've got my ways and will do what I will.
-You proclaim, out loud.

You fail to realise it though,
That no matter how much you grow,
You are and will always be,
A puppet, hanging from a bunch of strings.

You walk, you run but not on free will.
Someone's up there pulling your strings.
Someone's up there curbing your thrill.

They decide your life's flow,
Where it should go, how fast how slow.

You submit to them, knowing that often,
The choices you choose will not be chosen.

Thus you move on and on in life,
With strings pulling and knotting your hands.