the puppet and the puppeteer

    the thought that one day, i’ll be the opposite

    of what i hope to become had often plagued

    my dreams. what often starts as a gem melts

    with obsidian, and it will only be a matter of

    time until it would crystallize into a nightmare.

    perhaps it was a subconscious effort to

     rehearse the misery so that five years from

    now, the end result would no longer bring

     disappointment.

    they never fail to ask — when will you stop

    chasing these insignificant pursuits? the ink

    stains that i feed my paper daily won’t fill my

     stomach, neither does the impractical

    information that i store in my temporal lobe,

    existing only to satisfy my nerdy needs.

    i dream of circling the globe by foot, and yet

    i can see myself sitting on a chair with a

     crooked back while piles of paper hold me

     down. i dream of freeing myself from the

     shackles of living in someone else’s shadow,

    and yet i can see myself working for twenty-

    five hours a day without any acknowledgement.

    we are but puppets in this unforgiving society.

     the puppeteers make it seem as if we can

     pirouette across the stars and the moon, but

    we are only doing so within their strings.

#3octoberprompt

image used is not mine