The life of a doll is a morbidly beautiful one. Born as beautiful treasure. To die as trash.
The Life of a Doll
The life of a doll is a morbidly beautiful one.
Born as beautiful treasure. To die as trash.
All are design to entertain by singing songs and dancing dances. Naturally, they would be beautiful. Flawless. Enchanting. The ghost of Mater was no exception of the requirements of such an object. Even as she sang lullaby and lullaby to her master for three days, she knew in her mind that he laid there, dead. Hoping against hope that he would awaken to sing of praise and encouragement.
But he was dead.
And he will always be dead. Even though such a beautiful doll, such as Lala was behind all those bandages and broken limbs, sang hauntingly beautiful songs. Her voice echoed in the passing wind, hoping someone would hear her lullabies. Hoping her master's spirit would hear and would somehow praise her until she would finally break. Despite the Innocent in her heart, she could feel it breaking. She could feel the end coming. Unlike others, she anticipates it. She would be free from suffering. She would be free from torment.
She could break, knowing that someone had accepted her; even if it was just once.
However, not all dolls have such luck. Some would never have such luck. Some would be trashed on the spot if they misstep, missed a note, or forgot a lyric. Others would be treasured for generations. It depends on the master.
Despite it all, a doll's life is to entertain. Their songs and dances will only be remembered by those who deemed it worthy enough. Other then that? The songs and dances will be as broken as the doll.
Such as life.