Once I was a marionette.
When I was a small boy they took me
And put me in a brightly colored cell.
They gave me dictionaries to eat
And etiquette books for dessert.
When I got older I begged to leave my cell.
"Oh no, you are special. You must stay here.
You wouldn't be happy out there.
You wouldn't be special any more."
So I stayed and danced for them.
I feared the sunshine and the other food.
One day they came to me.
"We are leaving now. Stay, eat, be happy."
And I thought I was.
Until we met.
"Why are you in there? Come out."
"I can't. I'm special."
"You are special but not because you're in there.
See! They are long gone.
You hold your strings now.
You dine on dictionaries of your own will.
Don't me a marionette any more, be a man.
Come out into the sunshine into my arms.
Let's dance together."
And so I did.

© Mike Gurak