Little Doll

Disclaimer: This was hard for me to write. It may be hard to read. Please take care of you if you choose to read on – reading on is most definitely a choice. If something squeezes your heart too tight – listen to that. Take a break and come back later. These words will not leave. 

Pretty little doll,

Fine blonde hair, grey-blue eyes,

Little blue dress, white shoes, and socks.

Sit her up, lay her down,

Her eyes never close.

Porcelain face,

Never cries.

No needs,

No fears,

No words,

No hungers,

No hope.

Naughty little doll…

I’m mad at you,

Cut off her hair.

Beat her body against the wall,

Rip off her clothes,

Drag her in the bath,

Weigh her down in the water

Rip her apart, limb-by-limb.

Broken little doll…

Sow back her arms,

Stick on her legs,

Put her clothes back on,

Cover the stains.

Dirty little doll…

Throw her in the bin.

Dolls are for boxes,

Boxes are dark spaces,

Mildew grows in moist places.

Smelly little doll…

Spray on perfume,

Colour her grey eyes with permanent marker,

She no longer sees.

Smear red paint on her lips.

Sexy little doll…

Lift up her dress,

Take off her little white pants,

Open her little doll legs,

Draw boobies on her pale little body,

Take pictures.

Poke her.

Use her.

Blame her.

Hopeless little doll…

Who will mend her?

Who will hold her?

Who will heal her?

Who will speak tenderly to her?

Who will clothe her?

I will, says He…

Send Me.

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