I feel like a broken and unwanted marionette who has been stashed away in the cupboard, and not allowed to play and dance in the stage that is life with all the others.
I'm painted pretty on the outside, but covered in the dusts of years of being hidden away.
There are scratches in the wood on my arms, legs and body from when I was newer and was trying to learn how to dance. But then the strings on my head and limbs started to fray, and I couldn't dance beautifully. I was a disgrace.
More paint was applied to me in hopes of making me look better, so that I may seem normal in this array or others. And when I was finally chosen to play a part with another, I was knocked hard and bruised by the other. The string to my head frayed even more, until I was only but one thread away from being no more.
I was thrown into the cupboard right then and there. I was too broken to use, so who would care?
Within that cupboard I tried to fix myself, but I had nothing to do so with. Every once in awhile