there is a certain comfort that comes when you pull my strings,
knowing that you are in control, that I don't have to worry about
what i need to do.
if i need to talk, you speak for me.
if i need to move, you move me.
if i need to feel, well i don't...
you are in control and i mindlessly wander to the whims of your
hands, following you here are there. dancing for your friends,
their smiles are courteous, hiding their pity. at the end of the
night, you will drop me back in box, close the lid and forget me.
it is dark in here, and quiet...i like it.
in these shadows, i dream of what life would be like without the
pinch and pull. blasphemous dreams, their freedom smells so
alluring, yet scare mes. i have never been on my own and would
not know where to begin. you have assured that.
one day, when i wear and splinter, you will grow tired of me,
much like the others that used to inhabit this box. maybe
then i will understand, why their smiles don't need to be
painted on, any more.
This story was written for the prompt at Magpie Tales.