Puppet's Tear

Lying on his creator's hand, he was still. 

The creator was attaching him an arm. 

After fine and detail work, he was completed.

He opened his eyes.

A small hut he was in, made mostly out of logs,

evening sunlight shined in, making the whole hut shining with golden radiance.

The creator smiled at him, a heart-warming, genuine smile, saying to him:

I Love you, because you are special.

And he became unconcious. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he woke up, and realised that he was in a tiny dark box.

'That dream again,' he thought.

The box shook, and the lid was opened.

Roughly without even a slightest amount of care,

the puppeteer took him out from the box and got it ready for the next puppet show.

What use would it do, for him to perform, when no one liked him?

Ugly wooden colour, scars, loose arm. It's no wonder no one liked him. 

And he perform the show.

His last show.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The day after the puppet show ended, a new puppet took his place,

and he was thrown away.

------------------------

Lying beside a dumpster, in a dark corner. It was night already, the only light source was a dim tungsten light.

It was cold, shivering cold to be exact.

No one was on the streets, not even rats accompanied him.

He looked at the sky, the cloudy, starless sky, and sighed. 

He longed for the feeling of being loved again, just like how he felt in that dream of his,

just like when he was being created.

Beside the streets, he cried.

They say when a puppet cries, even the moon grieves.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

A small boy walked towards the dumpster,

he was filthy, and obviously short of actual clothes.

Beside the dumpster, he knelt down,

and asked the puppet:

'Why are you here?'

Still too young to understand that puppets don't talk, he continued:

'Are you left alone? like me?'

'Did ur mummy leave you? like my mummy left me?'

The boy tearing,

with his filthy hands, he rubbed his eyes, leaving more dirt on his face.

'Let's me carry you, and we can play together,'

the boy smiled, and took the puppet up,

held it tightly with both his soft, fragile hand.

Together they looked at the sky, and saw a star shining brightly, as if it's marking a new beginning.

The boy looked down the puppet and smiled, a heart-warming, genuine smile, and said:

'I Love you, because you are special.'

-------------------------------------------------------