She felt like a puppet,
Not because everybody manipulated her.
There were reasons other,
None standard, yet all better than any other.
Her dreams were standard,
She didn’t hope for anything too fancy.
And so the pauses seemed faulty,
She hadn’t signed up for a ride so bouncy.
But life then questioned her very existence one day,
Asking, “When did I ever invite you over? Now handle it Miss!”
Taken aback, she was afraid that life was right,
She herself infact, was the reason of the bouncy and the plight.
It had started the same for everybody,
No plus, no minus, at the same level.
It was she herself who had made it the way it was for her today,
A puppet, a wishful dreamer, jolted, and each minute A FIGHTER.