Puppet Act

I am the individual
With no personality,
Nothing but a pile of wood
On strings dangling.

Whatever the master says - 
His thoughts become my new task;
If he wishes for me so,
I do as he asks.

I am a worthless victim,
Who seems to be always slave - 
Not caring for a small thing
But the master's praise.

Knowing now that one's actions
Speak louder than spoken words,
There still is something to tell -
Something to be heard.

I am not what you might think
My appearance - a facade;
For when I tangle and rust,
I cry, "Help me! Save!"