Fear over came her.She was letting it control her.She was like a puppet on a string, helpless, hopeless, weak.She could feel herself giving in.Was it all just a bad dream or was she really living and breathing this moment? Was all her life just one big puppet show? Were people sitting in the audience? laughing along with her at good times, crying along with her at sad times.Or could she control it? Maybe she wasn't just the puppet being pulled around by strings maybe she was the puppeteer.Maybe she was the one who was controlling the strings all along. maybe just maybe...<br /><br />zaz waz<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/maybe-47/
