The Puppet dance

This one is quite straight forward.

I follow the harsh pulls
and the gentle tugs,
Eager as hungry wolves
playing with a fragile bug.

Each limb hanging from a thread,
I stayed were I should have fled.
The day the threads were tied,
and my life became a full slide.

Sometimes the pulls stop,
left alone, a motionless crab
without them, my limbs just drop,
useless without the mystic jab.

How I wish to rip free of my dismay,
and escape from the tune they play.
Letting my see the world in it's glory,
And see who am I, living my own story.

However, Deep down in my little heart,
I know that without the tune, I am lost.
So I create my story still, through my art
and continue to dance, Fire to frost.