He is held up like a puppet on a string. His every movement controlled. He is always forced against his will; he has no freedom. He is made to dance around the others, entertaining them as they all please. He isn't given a chance, his mind is empty, turning blank. He sits alone in his box when he is put back up, tears pouring down his crafted face. He waits there in the dark for morning to come again. Because when the sun rises, they all want to play again. They'll make him do what they want. 

She is like a porcelain doll, sitting still and pretty. She wears a dress and smiles. She can break with a single mistake, so she has to live her life careful. She sits with the others, in a doll hous, on a shelf, at a table. She is played with and messed with, but there is nothing she can do. She always sees the (puppet) boy who is made to dance through his strings, she hears his tears fall down as the others sleep. She cannot help him and she knows, but it doesn't stop her heart from breaking, as fragile as her face.

The others comes and do as the please, not caring who they hurt. They know that when the doll breaks, she can be always be thrown away. They know that when the puppet snaps, he can always be locked up.

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Note: this was written last night, so hope there aren't many mistakes and I hope these are enjoyable. Thanks to anyone reading.