the puppeteer

the doll looked into the eyes of her puppeteer, concern and guilt drawn over her tainted pale face, she rested her head onto his chest listening to him sing to her like any other night, the strings onto her limps connected to the gloves he was wearing she closed her eyes and sobbed silently stopping the rhyme of his voice as he gently stroked her hair "my little angel, what troubles your night?" she looked up at him her tears tainting the make up he had made for her, he felt her small hands tracing ihe stitches of his mouth, he was wearing a mask, a stetched mask of torn leather, a forced smile and no eyes. "master...why did you take me in? why do you have this workshop? i look into you and...although your mask is indeed fearful...the sound of your heartbeat is a balm to my soul...every show and every dance...every time you move those strings I feel no pain..." she looked around at the other dolls, peacefully sleeeping around him in their small beds, carefully crafted by his masterful hands as he rocked himself back and forth