The doll in the poem depicts my lost confidence, yearning to be found and loved again. |
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. |