The strings pull tight in every direction. You’re hung by your feeble limbs to mindlessly play the part. When one hand moves up and around the other mimics it in the opposite motion. The battle between one side and the other, from up and down has begun to show the fleshy wounds of every strike. Soon your body won’t be able to take it much longer. Exhaustion will take over in your struggle to fulfill every part. The stage can only have one star, with one string that you yourself control. A new string is added to pull at your heart, the breath of your existence, the fuel for your soul. Tying it to another while you’re still lifelessly hung by the taunt wires could sever your body. A million and one pieces of molded form will soon fly out, spraying the audience like an ocean mist. You’ll die not for yourself but for others. Can’t you cut the lines and life freely? Can’t you be who you really are, not what the others want you to be? Go, run, the audience wouldn’t care, they can see your struggle too.

The puppet looks so real, walking up and down the stage pretending to sing a song. Might it be a joyful song? Can the puppet really be crying out for help? Pacing as if he is behind prison bars, its eyes are dull staring blankly off into the distance. The puppet wants to be free, to move its own feet along its chosen path. It doesn’t even know who it really is. Its head slowly moves in my direction and mouth opens to sing out a long, painful note.

My ears can not bear it any longer. My eyes have witnessed to much cruelty. My heart recognizes the struggle. I get up to cut the steel wires. They are hard and give no resistance. I look at your hopeless face and know I have to finish the job. The razor blade snaps and grinds sending sharps hazardously everywhere. Soon the first wire is cut free. You smile in amazement. I continue to feverously work at each wire, the smell of burnt metal fills the air, course and black. After each snap rosy colors comes back to your body. A rebirth of real fluid movement spreads through your limbs. Finally the last one snaps and you fall to the ground. Your once helpless body has renewed strength to sustain itself. You move up to thank me and invite me to gallivant away from the stage, away from the spotlights and abandoned wires. Away from the astonished audience still staring in unbelief. Your warm hand takes mine, how lucky I think to feel so free after all that pain. We begin to take off, smiling at the liberty in your spirit. Your new found movement is quicker and I start to fall back. Then as if the ground had disappeared beneath my feet I’m being pulled, dragged by the one string tied to you. I couldn’t cut it, in fear of losing what we once shared. The string is think, really a thread, and will soon break as the distance grows. I’ll be left once again to stare at how you must feel. "Go," I call out, "find who you really are, just remember me, who set you free."