Puppet.

I feel like I'm on display; a doll hanging by its strings.
just a puppet in this play called life; no one noticing.

with each and every action, my strings are becoming tight,
and me dangling from the other end, am sick of putting up a fight.

I let you do with me what you wish, the things I do you choose.
and in the end it never fails, that I'm the one to lose.

I no longer know who my real friends are; to many times have I been stabbed in the back.
and now the stuffing inside me, I am beginning to lack.

I'm always the target whose picked on; giving everyone a show.
but to the audience my true feelings, they would never believe or know.

for I am always the happy one, with a smile upon my face.
all of my harboring feelings, I am forced to erase.

because no one cares how I feel, they only care for themselves.
but me, I'm always willing, to lend a part of myself.

a shoulder to lean on, a hand when you may fall,
a heart to care, and ears for when you may call.

but I am just a puppet, whose putting on a show.
who I can really trust, at this point, I may never know.