Tuesday, March 22, 2011


That doll:
Has large brown eyes and a tangle of black hair that swirls like a broken amazon down her spine.
She moves when people tell her to,
She wears what people adorn,
She words the talk people want to hear,
She does the everything people expect.
But one day, her impeccability gets too repetitive, too banal, too weird for the one person who had loved her so much.
Impatience and then,
She's thrown onto the side, left a chew toy for the dog.
I am that doll.
And I think I'm edging towards that corner.

1 comment:

  1. You are a really good writer, it sounded quite beautiful the use of the whole metaphor even though the story seems tortured. It definetley leaves you thinking. I love it :)