The Master of Reclusion

He shows me, in the distance, a city I know that’s all aglow yet hollow.
I’m thrust out, swung, drawn through the streets — a silent, sad show
performing for no one
He is the one! He is the man who’s been pulling the strings all this time.
Who can he be? I’m the puppet and he is the master of it all!
He tied them all. He strung them all. He pulled them. He pulled them tightly.
He pulled them unseen. He pulled them always
Him!
It’s him!
It’s been him!
Only him!
Emerging from reclusive corners come all the lies that have been my life,
forming shadow faced people reaching for me, arms out trailing their strings —
they are all puppets!
Then his face in their eyes appears in the cold spotlight, distorted and
drowning. Oh no, please whisper reason to me! It’s my face there reflected and
staring!
I am the one! I am the man who’s been pulling the strings all this time.
How can this be? I’m the puppet and I am the master of it all!
I tied them all. I strung them all. I pulled them. I pulled them tightly.
I pulled them unseen. I pulled them always
Me
(It's me)
(It's been me)
Only me