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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Other · #1234689
Written in a time of quiet desperation
A porcelain doll
Sat on a shelf-
High above the world below-
Where she couldn’t be touched, and
Where she couldn’t be hurt.
But she wasn’t alive,
And she wasn’t happy.
Then someone came and said
‘What a doll!’
And took her down from the shelf.

The porcelain doll’s dress
Is torn at the hem
And she’s lost a shoe.
Her nose is chipped and her arm is broken.
She now lies where she was tossed
In a corner behind the dollhouse.


Someone new came along
And picked up the porcelain doll.
He smoothed her hair and found her shoe.
Bit by bit he fixed all that was broken.
She became alive in his care
And she was very happy.

But the doll had changed over time,
The porcelain wore away to the straw underneath.
Now she could smile.
Deep inside, beneath the straw
Was a heart
Cushioned in sawdust.
Never porcelain,
it was sewn of bits of felt.
She was careful with her heart
Feeling almost afraid to care, to love
Lest it be torn from her too.

Still, she became brave and ventured forth.
She made friends and lost family.
She cried crystal tears, said goodbyes
And learned to keep on living--
Lest she return to being a rag-doll.


She is so sad today.
The sawdust is damp and the
Colors in the felt heart are running-
Staining the sawdust, and dripping on the floor.
He wants to help, but there is nothing he can do.
He won’t let her hide on the shelf,
So he holds her and says all the right things
Knowing that her heart is breaking.
Even though she did nothing wrong
Indeed, simply tried to be a friend.
Instead, it seems, she lost one
And she feels the loss keenly.

Night comes and the pair sit together in the candlelight.
On an even keel, their dog cuddles close as
Together they wait out the storm.

Off in the distance
The wind sounds like a child crying.

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