Thursday, June 20, 2024

Pretend: The fate of all of the dolls I have ever played with

 Pretend

Her legs bent slightly,

As I maneuvered her through the dollhouse,

I raised her hand in a wave,

A grin, forever plastered on her face.

I lost my grip on her,

Watching as she toppled to the floor,

Lying motionless until I picked her up again,

I made her sit down for a tea party,

Her expression was stagnant,

Even when I spilled ink on her,

When I chopped her hair short,

When I left her facedown on the ground for days,

When I dismantled her house,

And tossed her in a donation bin,

Her smile never wavered.

Her eyes gazed off in the distance,

Somewhere only she could see,

Hoping that I would pick her up to play again.

I never did.

But what did it matter?

It’s just pretend.


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Prism

Prism My mind is a prism. That reflects my stormy soul, Everyone sees a different side of the hurricane in my head.