The Doll

The doll sat there, porcelain and unaddressed, eyes full of pain reflecting in the glass. She rose stiff, careful to not interact with the world. Her glued hair, so carefully arranged to resemble beauty, marred by the uncaring wind. Her condemnation of us and our monstrosity could  only lead us to demonize her. So we humans threw her in a corner, unused and uncared for and called it justice.

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