I don’t do what you need me to

I’m not your marionette, I’m not your puppet on these slippery strings.
What you said is dead and so the grass will cover that grave.
What you dreamt was not you and I have never been real in your most fantastic story.
The feelings arranged in orderly fashion as you play those songs that make you feel something more than what you’ve become.
You’re numb.
You’re calculating and deceiving.
You’re empty beyond words and your tongue just another tool you created to be less like him.
You’re him just take a look and see you’re another puppeteer because you lack the passion that makes you real.