A Barbie Doll

A child’s glee is never tamed,

Illustrates a hardened, greyed soul of hers,

“I’m too old,” she states grudgingly,

Only reflected by her brow.

She opens the basket,

Ready to take out the shame.

To forget her childhood

Of silliness and games.

That old basket was magical,

It seemed.

It brought forth those laughs.

That sound no longer heard by these ears.

As she takes out her dolls,

One by one by one.

Her mind is soothed by memories.

Those mystical shards of joy.

Yet the bitter edge was amidst.

The loneliness.

The box.

It must be thrown away.

For she is a hardcore lady.

No longer a mere girl.

But as she stands there

She painfully regrets her words,

Soon to be regret for that throught.

She promises those dolls.

“I’ll be here forever. Don’t ever forget me.”

And she kneels, weeping.

Why must that magic die.

Why am I still awake, when the world has fallen asleep.

The doll’s arm moves.

Simply a fraction of an inch.

A young millionaire’s fantasy.

No one ever regrets, the presence.

She isn’t dead yet.

There was still time

For the unforgiving choice to be made.

Until then an hour,

She played with her kin.


People also view

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *