Strings Attached

You knew you had let down your guard
When things collapsed; houses of cards
Were homes and words and thoughtful acts
Tinged with shades of colourful black
Your taking selves don’t realise
Even giving’s really your vice
Gifts are marionettes at work
Smiling, wide-eyed faces should irk
Us but gullibles fail to see
Intent ain’t what it seems to be:
‘Tis selfish in selfless’ clothing
(Acts nullified by some gloating)
Thoughtless it is, & thoughtful not.
Cheer to one, to another squat
Is brought by gestures which “meant well”—
“Well” to whom? Who goes to hell?!
Oh, not to ask, we have been trained,
“Why not me?! What do I gain?”

Marionettes still doing their will
Silent and obedient still.

 

 

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