She is like a doll.

She can't move by herself.
She had to be under control.
Always.
They arent't any glimmers in her eyes. Not anymore.
Before, she smiled, laughed, imaginated, flew.
But, if you fly too high, you will burn yours wings.
So, she burnt her wings, and fell.
She doesn't have any regrets, because she can't feel any emotions.

But, inside her heart, behind her walls, a tiny bird wants to escape from his cage.
He wants to fly away, far from this cruel world, this terrible reality.
He wants to sing, sing for her.
But, the winters passed, and he can't escape from his prison.
So, he disappeared.
Like he never existed.

She can't dance.
She can't move.
She can't open her mouth.
All she can do, is sit, and look.
Look at the world.
The world she knew, before, in an another life.
A life full of travels, of joy, of love.

She wished.
Wished to dance for eternity, with all her friends.
Wished to be on the scene, to feel alive.

Now, she can't dance, she's alone, she can't stand on the scene and she isn't alive.

She is dead, inside.

Like a doll.
A lovely and lonely doll.