A Puppet's Puppetmaster

This is about a time in my life where I was disillusioned from what i really wanted to do in life, thanks for reading ^_^ (this is my first writing here btw)

A Puppet walked as the puppet master stood both in the brain of the first and 50 miles away. The strings tensed and opposed as days set forth to become weeks. This life wasn't right for the puppet, used to be full of life. In his past he held the torch and ran for the ever so illustrious flame, but was tripped and lured to her strings. Almost a year it has been and the fire to the torch still burns, the day has come to break free. The puppet watched its hands tear the strings from its legs, arms, and the strongest of them all - his heart. Events of the past flashed afterwards - happy overcome by that of the distressed. The soul of the once stringed instrument burned but he ran, happy as ever. The new man grasped the torch and ran, ran for the flame he saw one year ago in his future. The life he held without it was feeling ever so fictitious - but was his nicotine. No more - the run to the flame is filled with hardship that cannot be dodged by a feminine drug. A day came where she returned and asked him if she still meant something to him. How he responded was with rejection, but no man can openly reject nicotine to soothe life. To simply reject the serene chemical reaction takes more than any brain could imagine. Deep inside he still longed for it, desperately needed it. However, a pantomime is not what awaits him on this run - but a flame that promises one's mental pursuit for a life delving into life itself. The flame is the finish line, not strings and brown eyes - that is a checkpoint.