Strings

Pulling the strings again and again,
Playing by what the puppet master said,
The puppet moved safely under the wings of its creator,
Not hesitating, not even a second later.
But on a free will when the master was away,
The puppet decided to pull her own strings today.
Shakily standing,
She moved on, finally free of her creator's handling.
Closer and closer she got to her safe haven,
Until the master swooped her strings up like a stingy raven.
Pulling her back by her bindings,
Never getting to make her own findings.
Always being played by the strings of her fate,
Never hesitating,
Not even a second late.