Marionette

A carved wooden face stuck fast in a grin,

Subjugated hands and feet fastened tight;

It writhes and dances to its master's whim,

"I'm not my own", obligation blinds sight.

Cold, detached strings-gossamer shackles that

Serve to control, please, satisfy. Aware

But constrained, pre-programmed to know; for at

Tradition's word, recourse falls to despair. 

A strait-jacket of obedience traps

Those who share the innocent Dinah's fate;

Flowers of Venus consume and collapse

Liberty-laced wings to pathetic state.

Yet, innate and secure, is the unsaid:

"I will be me, no one else in my stead".