She is a marionette tangled in her own strings, unable to move (think) (feel) — she is the leftovers, tossed away (abandoned) (forgotten). Her worn, brittle, wooden body is pushed into the darkness where no one will see. The ones who carved her look at her and think, this is not something I am proud to have made. They look at her, compare her to the gleaming puppets and pristine ornaments that surround them, come to the obvious conclusion that she is nothing but an eyesore
a failure
a reject.
Her body is paralyzed and so she is trapped, doomed to exist only in the shadow of greatness where those who are unwanted all reside. She is incomplete (unloved) (broken) from the beginning.
Am I a mistake? The question floats around inside of her, threatening to shatter her fragile exterior and break her into a thousand irreparable pieces. She is a puppet who cannot dance, a dancer who cannot move.
No one wants something as ugly (deformed) (crooked) as her.
When the fire comes, raging like a storm, she welcomes it. It licks at her body, illuminating her for the first time, allowing her to see what she is
and why she has been discarded
and her body begins to burn
and it hurts so much
but the light it casts over her gives her a taste of what she's never had, a warmth she's never felt, and she knows that this is as close as she will ever get to being of use (because it is now her rejected self that will chase away the oppressive blackness that has suffocated her for so long).
Yet it does not bring the satisfaction she had hoped it would.
She will be destroyed (consumed) (wasted) but the pain comes from inside her, from a hollowed-out chest that cries for something that she cannot even name because she simply does not know
how it feels
to be wanted.
He picks her up from the midst of the flames, untangles her strings, fixes her mangled body and paints over the imperfections until she is nearly unrecognizable.
He gives her a name, shows her the light, gives her a purpose and is the one that controls her from above.
She is a marionette who, for the first time, has someone holding her strings and lifting her to her feet — and she knows she will be discarded again, and the end will inevitably come when the wire will be cut and her limbs will be torn and her body will return to the ashes from whence she came but —
he is the one to raise her
he is the one to use her
he is the one to want her
so she will dance for him until she can no longer dance at all.