"Dolls in the Attic"
(An ode to the novel "Flowers in the Attic".)
Four dolls all in the attic,
They've never seen the sun,
They wait ever so patiently,
'Till the eternal night is done.
They have blue eyes and pale blonde curls,
Their skin is porcelain,
Four dolls all in the attic ask,
"When will the day begin?"
Wilting paper flowers,
On the walls so desolate,
They may seem to take it lightly,
But they're just so desperate;
To escape eternal darkness,
They've created for themselves,
Still sitting so silently,
On the dark and dusty shelves.
They want to know where they might find;
A field of purple grass,
Where every single dream comes true,
If only they would last.
Four and two years have gone by,
Since they last saw the sun,
They wish with their imagined hearts,
That time could be undone.
Each doll is different,
And special in a way,
Even though all four of them;
Are too fragile to play.
The ballerina doll's dreams,
Are way up in the sky,
She knows the soul that put them there,
And all it does is lie.
The doctor doll pretends,
He knows every single fact,
But the fact we all must know,
Is it's really just an act.
The musician doll sings,
Plays the banjo with his heart,
Because he knows, one day,
That they will all just fall apart.
The tiny doll has huge hopes,
And she really wants to know,
Why is she still so small,
And will she ever grow?