Paper Maché Identity Sonnet

The remnants of my dreams cling in fragments

Like the torn strips of wetted news paper

Soaked in Wheatepaste and glue to be pliant

I’m only a paper maché cover

The pasteboard mask that I present to you

Made up of the finest linen paper

Is a simulacrum that is untrue

Made to help me pull off this bold caper

Who is anything more than a puppet

Strings leading up to the bold puppeteer

(Or a hand reaching up to control it?)

Once we know this we can play without fear

The script that we are performing each day

Was written long ago & far away

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