"Go, Little Doll," he said, there upon his throne. "out into the world to which you are unknown."
"Find, Little Doll," said they, the House's politicians, needing all the secrets kept by those beyond their diction.
A porcelain mask on faceless head; a skin-deep pleasant being. A beauty to the doll a tool is all that they are seeing.
But Little Doll, one played in dark - one kept without a name. Through work in worlds so far apart, you've lived a dirty game.
"Play, Little Doll, this game of ours, and use their lawless nature. Work to be one of their kin, in shadows nomenclature."
Oh, Little Doll, your mind was perfect - flawed just the way they want. The broken piece was just a clay, molded to their art.
One looks so fragile to this world, but shadows' selves won't break. It took a heart guise'd like the rest, but nowhere near as fake.
A power hid behind your broken mind and broken heart. Its only use was done for pain, yet held love from the start.
But it would seem those cracks and flaws, ignored and left alone, they broke more of that power's hold upon a heart of stone.
Thus in the end, when love broke free, and mind began to heal. T'was all for naught, as Doll's dark deeds, they turned out all too real.