I'm just an old wooden doll on a strings in the hands of mine...

Sometimes... sometimes I feel as a wooden doll with strings. I'm quite aware of a fact that most people call it "marionette" - but in it's nature it is just a doll.
The joints are worn and cracking; the bones are shattered and roughly glued together; the paint is worn and the clothes have rotten long ago. But I just have to pull a string, to loosen another one - and I bow. Tighten another one - and I salute you. And if I take all the strings in my hands and make a knot... Lo and behold - I dance on the edge of the world, joints cracking, dead eyes swivelling, hands and legs jerking.

... It is that sometimes the grip loosens and the knot slips through cold fingers. And the doll falls as if broken.
These are the times when the broken doll must learn again how to get up.
Lucky me, my mind gets well soon enough, and it takes the strings from numb wooden fingers, heaves the weight of a stiff body, walks the broken legs.

...I'm lucky, right?..