The Lost Doll

Twirl, Twirl, Twirl. However fast you spin, I'll always be that little porcelain doll lost under the rubble with the saddest gaze and broken heart, seeming to be crying tears of blood as her outstretched hand reaches for the unknown fate. As the tears begin to dry and warmth is felt through her body, she would realize that she lived through the night and now rays of sun gently caress her cheek. The unusual color of her crimson eyes seem to have flecks of gold that reflected in the bright light. Her hands too weak to free herself from the rubble as she cried out for help, knowing nobody would come save this pathetic doll who had gotten lost. She would cry out for her Master, the one she loved so much as her cries seemed like a child's, hoping her Master would hear the cries and free her.
As the doll heard the cry of a lone crow, she felt somehow connected to this bird as she tilted her head upwards to gaze at the crow, interested in how well the crow managed to keep himself in flight even alone. She would struggle to try to pull herself free, she would feel rather dismayed as her once beautiful dress was in tatters, she had remembered when her Master had given her the dress and matching collar. She would manage to become freed from the rubble as she stood with weak knees as her body shook from the exhaustion, a soft caressing touch would rest over her head as she looked up into the face of the man she called Master. She would sigh as she smiled, nuzzling the hand as she looked at the man. Her Master's hand come back for her at last, to hold, cradle and protect her like he always had.