The Royal Doll

Caged in the scarlet of the throne I was born into
I sit idly, looking listlessly at the black and gold of the hall.
A doll, a puppet, a marionette put on strings
Moving to its master's wills and whims,
I wonder what it is that they are thinking....
Dancing with practiced grace the unseen steps,
A hundred times, a thousand times, a million times,
Unable to laugh, unable to cry, unable to say,
What it truly wants, what it truly feels.
The master whirls and twists.
I watch quietly the stiff expression and the glassy eyes.
The little human twirls and turns.
I push myself out from the scarlet throne.
The hands stop, the eyes look at me in unsure fear.
The limbs fall limp, hanging in the air.
Do I know what I think or feel then
When I reach my hands out to the master
And say,
"Will you lend it to me?"
What the master sees when he gazes at me I will never know
But silently, carefully so, he bows and surrenders the item,
Tears dripping down his chin.
Taking it in my arms, I turn and walk toward the red chair.
Gently, I put it on the velvet cushion.
Sitting idly, eyes listlessly watches the painted black and gold,
Caged in the scarlet throne it has been put into,
"So this is what I am."