Thought I'd try my hand at poetry. This is Pippa's POV, if you couldn't tell.
I am a marionette, controlled by strings.
Shrouded in ignorance, I can't be cut away.
Attached to me by way of rings,
On my finger, the trophy fiancée,
In my hair, ringlets,
Pretty pet,
Marionette.
I have my advantages, as prescribed by all.
Never argue, never crude,
Always the fairest at the ball.
No privacy from the eyes of lewd.
Savior from debts,
Useful pet,
Marionette.
I sit upon the plush lap of society,
Forced to speak the voice of another.
Keys turned to make me pretty,
Mechanized by my mother.
Just another asset,
Dying pet,
Marionette.
What if I wound these strings into a tangle?
Broke the bindings and severed the rings.
Try to live life from another angle,
Without the suffocation of corset strings.
No longer a puppet,
Spiteful pet,
Marionette.
Constructive criticism is definitely welcome, for I don't generally write poetry, and because I wrote this in about half an hour, which means there are bound to be oddities. Second stanza has references to an Oscar Wilde quote about puppets. "There are many advantages in puppets. They never argue. They have no crude views about art. They have no private lives." Thought it was fitting for dear old Pip. And the part about the key refers to the sort of puppets that change expression by way of a key turned in the back of their head.
That about covers it, I think. Hope you liked it!
Feeling oddly inspired,
LunaEquus