Where the rainbow ends

It's a poor puppet, the one that looks back at you from the pole in the cornfield.

You don't understand why he doesn't move, why he doesn't react to your touch which gets more and more hesitant, why he doesn't smile at you and speak some kind words. Don't be so childish. Of course it is like this.

Are you surprised to know fairytales come to an end?

You shouldn't be. You shouldn't wonder about this empty, lifeless shell, about this painted face which looks at you and cannot see you. You shouldn't cry, little stupid Dorothy.

He used to have a soul, once. But when you went away, you took it away with you.