Author's Notes: I am posting this in honor of Betsy, cuz she liked it.
Disclaimer: Nope. I don't own WA3.
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The tears bleed away
From his eyes
As he cries
Out in anguish.
A total lack of life
Created, not born.
What is a puppet without it's master?
Merely garbage.
A total void of life
Unable to move
Without the strings
That control him.
Memories
He longs to be free
His stiff wings
Chained to the life of a
Golem
Tell him
Did you play with dolls when you were younger?
But where are the now?
In the attic, the closet?
Unchanging, gathering dust
And forgotten.
You forgot him.
He is cursed with his youth.
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A/N: Yeah...I wrote this in writing today 'cuz we are doing poetry. I stole some lines from my other blurbs so if it looks familiar...:whistles and walks away: See Betsy? I posted it despite my personal distaste for it! Aren't you proud?
