Her Puppeteer

Come master,
Let me look upon
My love's face once again
If this could be the only way,
Then I choose to be a
Toy of fortune's sick and
Cruel play

If I let myself be a servant of fate's hand,
And a slave of this conquering heart,
Would these eyes look at me
With less judgment upon their smirk?

Perhaps somehow, someday,
I shall be forgiven,
If I surrender everything
To thy brutal masters

If these eyes forbid,
Then I shall let them bind me
Let my hands and feet not be mine anymore
Let my tongue be dried out of truth's thirst
And my voice be no longer heard

For I'd rather be a puppet
Than be a puppet of no strings,
No will, nor power to touch, nor
hold, nor long for my beloved

Let me play the part of the
laughing masquerade
Let my lips be filled with smiles
and merriment of thy fools parade
While my eyes overflow with verity's
Tears and sadness

If in exchange I could be with my love
If this would let little glimpse
Of thy precious smile seep into my heart
Then I'd gladly be a martyr of love's
Joke of tragedy than be
Nevermore but my beloved's memory.