Author's note: I have been getting reviews about readers not understanding my poems, my humble apologies for that. I should've made it clear who is who and what was the story about initially. I'm such an idiot at times. ^^ Sorry.

So basically, The creator in this story is of course the creator of Slam Dunk; Inoue-san. Rukawa Kaede, is the aforementioned puppet with strings and my Original Character, she who yearns. I can't tell you her name yet, so why not we call her swy-san? ^^ Okay, the poem starts with Rukawa talking about how he's not real and all, soulless and whatnot. Then Inoue-san, hears the guy's 'complaint' and pities his creation, so what better way to cheer the hunk up than by giving him a taste of life? This is where the fantasy starts. Because, both you and I know, if Rukawa became real, I ( and a bunch of fangirls ) would stop at nothing to keep him for ourselves. Now enter swy-chan, a lonely girl caught up in her own world, and instead of an imaginary friend.she has an imaginary lover. And guess who's that lover eh?

~ Emotions Galore ~

Such a bland contrast,

From the rosy sunshine before,

The dark skies mocked me,

The rain clothes my body,

The winds penetrate my being.



I shiver in return,

For the sky's wail,

And as I trudge along,

The empty road ahead,

I finally realized,

That no home,

Will be there,

To welcome me,

No one would be there,

To embrace,

This soulless character.



Indeed,

He has given me,

A chance to,

Truly exist.



The hand which,

Skillfully molded,

My appearance,

The ink that plainly,

States my presence,

And the paper which,

Became my essence,

Will never be forgotten.



I am who I choose to be,

The second I breathed,

My first dose of life,

Into my lungs.

It is true,

Before,

I was controlled,

And my movements,

Depicts imagination,

Not of mine,

But of my creator.



Designed to entertain,

And attract,

The outside world.

I execute skills,

That were never there,

I spoke words,

From a scripted play,

And my personality,

Is a mere act done,

To complete a performance.



Without these,

I am as naked,

As a new born baby,

I am new and untrained,

To the ways of real life.

I am alone.



My thoughts swirl,

As I continue to trudge,

My feet felt pain,

In a way,

I was not used to,

Since there was nothing,

To be felt except,

The unavoidable emptiness.

My head tilts upward,

And dizziness invades my head,

The rain pounded mercilessly,

Onto my body,

But it failed to hide,

A house not far away.



Hope filled me,

And I quicken my steps,

But I stop,

Just short of haven,

As doubt took over.

Another shiver,

Ran up my spine,

And I looked up,

To find an eerily,

Familiar figure,

Standing by the window,

Of haven.