Tired Doll

a Doll in pieces, at the bottom of a flight of stairs.

the air is still and the night is silent.

for a time, nothing changes. nothing dares disturb the scene until... a chuckle, a laugh building to a cackle. the Doll props itself up on a shattered arm. it laughs to itself, at itself, at the destruction around it. at its fracturing, at the havoc it had wrought upon its body. it laughed.

a Doll in pieces at the bottom of a flight of stairs. slowly pulling itself together, carefully welding its porcelain skin with gold, stitching shut the tears in its dress.

a Doll smiling at the bottom of a flight of stairs, hurting itself to feel alive