Self-control

Where did I go?
I'm lost, and there's
a line painted down either
side of my mouth,
holding back my tongue,
my glass eyes staring,
unseeing, in different directions.
And my limbs don't seem to
move unless the string is
pulled; my body is immobile, and
there's a hand in my back,
hiding from view.

I'm staring up at the
puppet master's hands,
seeing only a copy of my own.