Master of puppets

The shadows of the past
Play puppets on the wall
Strange animals run fast
Monsters are there ready to fall

My hands cannot hold them all
My fingers untie
I am tired of all the acting
Tired of the charade, the lie

I see her in grey approaching through the white
Each time I think I may stay
She turns on another light
And it illuminates my mistakes
It casts doubts' shadows against the wall

My own past is merged with her's
And I cannot see clearly at all

There must be some reason for its standing
This cinema of life
Like I am watching my own play unravel
Like she is an actress, And I am
An editor, making the cut with my knife

The scene of us together rolls around and around
The film reel feels, like a loose end
That must be tied
I am the puppet master
But I do not pull the strings
My shadows dance without my asking
They are autonomous things

Have I responsibility for what they do or say
After all am I not just a puppet myself
In this strange shadow puppet play?