Just a broken old doll I am, tattered and torn. Waiting for the doll maker to come and rebuild me, to recreate me and cherish me. To eternally love me.
What was that? Trickling tears splash down on my withering dress. Puddles around me gazing at me, wondering.
Why am I like this you say? Well, a broken doll like me would know….
Ripped apart like this, like a dog ridden me with its sharp fangs, never again will I feel such pain from one being. Unfaithfulness decided to creep on me and tear my living.
This will never happen again, as I lay here on the suburban grounds. Battered and bruised, I yet wait for the doll maker to arrive, to bring me to safety. To repair my broken heart, to give me the desire to live again.
Birds flew above me, laughing in disgust. Why torment a being such as me I wonder? I then realise that I am but a broken doll, tossed aside waiting for 'the men' to come and dispose me.
Oh what has become of me, a once cherished doll? I looked up in the sky in hopes for the doll maker
But he never came….