Marionette

Hey everybody, this is my first posting on this site. I'm new to writing poetry (I'm pretty sure this is the first poem I've written since middle school!), so I'm very much a beginner. Constructive criticism is welcome, I would love to improve my overall writing, and perhaps improve this poem as well.

Marionette

A puppet dances across a stage
With a painted smile upon her lips
The audience adores her beautiful shape
As fingers above dictate every move

But at the end of the day her light is gone
Alone in her shell she is nothing
Her hollow body collapses on the floor
Where she has no intention of moving

She longs for the taste of the air
Or the feel of the breeze on her cheeks
But trapped inside her wooden body
She is cold and frozen and numb

The next morning she springs back to life
Her dance giving an illusion of purpose
Defined by whoever is using her
She forfeits her soul to their hands

The crowds cheer, “what a pretty little puppet”
As she charms them with her twirls
Thankful for the strings pulling her into routine
Masking her emptiness from the world

Allie, that was a real treat to read. On the surface it's kind of soaring and optimistic and even whimsical in the language and metaphor - but I like the way you kind of subvert that and twist it around with a bit of darkness and underlying element that pokes through. I like it. Reads a little deeper each time.

thank you