Would you love me, if you could,
Although my heart and head
Are made of wood?
My arm a kindle of movement about,
If they hit your head you will shout.
A parental voice will then say,
"Put that doll in a box, do not play
With it anymore or any less."
Is it a reason? It can't be a guess.
Toys are wonderful to see
As they can bring joy to thee.

The words hang heavy
over my head,
pressing firmly,
around my neck,
weighing me down,
without uttering a sound,
I have drowned
in my silence.

(a little re-write from 12/2017)

A lonely tear, slides down my cheek
as I think of this life of ours.
It pains me when recalling you,
now the tear has become two.
I am not weeping, there is no more.
Just the tick of a clock.

My mind is running away from me.
I think I need a pre frontal lobotomy.
Thoughts that are stuffed in every place,
Wedged in cracks or any empty space.
I need some time. Time to think
Or I may have to turn to drink.