Puppet

My soft skin get wounded and stressed,

but I fail to protest every time.

My lips are stitched in such a way that shows a smile

and not allowed to get puckered. 

My adorable soft colorful hands get scratched

but I fail to protest every time. 

Just because it's your show in which I work

you keep pulling the strings that are attached. 

My eyes, those cheerful eyes get drenched.

Not in tears of pain but due to strain,

but I fail to close them in that time too.

It reminds me those dreadful outcomes that I faced.

My soft colorful clothes are getting torn.

My cheerful smile and shine are fading away.

But I have to keep my mouth shut anyway,

as not my pain but my smiles are adorned.