Pinocchio

• Artist: ippuda
• Description: I decide to pull this old poem from my dust covered shelves. I wrote it around the end of the 8th grade year. That might explain many of the errors. I revised it a tiny bit. I'm a junior now, so my writing skills have improved. I just wanted to share it because I really liked the message, and personally, it is one of my favorite poems I've written. Thoughts and critique would be loved.
• Date: 07/17/2014
• Tags: pinocchio poem society

Pinocchio

A puppet, crafted
with pink painted hair.
She’s crafted so gracefully,
but she’s in twined
by the world around,
but wishes to be free.

A puppet,
whose limbs are controlled.
The silvers strings
bind her movements,
but she wishes the be free.

The puppet master has her control,
her limbs move robotically, under control,
The puppet is a robot, listening to the commands.
Every move she makes is made by a dark hand.

Whispers of the wind
pulls her silver strings towards
the things she should do,
and the things she should be.
The wind whistles
the standards of society.

But the winds stop,
she’s under control,
the standards
are now her own.

A girl with pink painted hair.
The crowd looks at her.
Eyes follow her as she walks,
She strides down the grey sidewalk.
Streaks of color follow her.
Turning the monotone streets
into a vibrant festivity.
The girl with the pink painted hair
was no longer a puppet,
she was her own story.
A story of Pinocchio.

No longer controlled,
no longer having silver strings
but the blue fairy sang,
to have no silver strings
to not be controlled
the blue fairy advised her,
“Society doesn't control oneself,
it’s how you view yourself.”