The Puppeteer

Taking the strings, loving the strands,
of the marionettes carved by your hand.

They are your creation, a part of you,
Each design and carving you shaped too.

You gave them direction, guided every step,
In your absolute control their bodies were kept

Things went completely as you had planned,
Telling them when to sit and when to stand.

However, now the question remains, the one never asked,
what if the positions were switched, and you wore the puppet mask.