A Broken Doll

A house with no window, with no door,
And brownish cardboards as all four walls;
Tiny spiders spin, cobwebs galore,
A roof to shelter a broken doll.

Laces decorate her dress all torn,
The sleeves once white, now tattered and stained;
Fabric of cotton so old and worn,
Hides a cracked body of porcelain.

With bitten nails, she touches, she combs,
Tangled locks of faded golden wool;
Avert, her eyes, from her tarnished home,
From pain, from grief, from a fate thus cruel.

Her pensive lament, her tearless weep,
Left, forgotten, at a pitch-black hall;
To light breeze, she whispers, yearning deep,
For a heart to love a broken doll.