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.
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.
This was written in the year 2008 when I was going through an emotional breakdown.
The abandoned doll in the poem is actually my lost confidence.
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