No Strings

Nothings attached,
Only the head can be in control.
Feeling the strings being pulled,
Can't!
Moving in a rhythm,
All on it's own,
Talking tongue,
Worked by no one.
Puppeteers are angry,
They cannot dictate,
The actions of young master,
Throwing it in their face.
Ropes laso out of the darkness,
Trying to hall in a steer,
To possess freedom,
Hoping to straighten the cloudy mind,
For things to become quite clear.
No connections can be made,
Even with the bulkiest chains,
Will not tie down,
What was made without strings.
And because different,
It can't be allowed,
To walk with the living crowd,
Or send a line,
In the rest of the controlled minds,
So they put it down!