They’d touch you
Kiss you
Play you

They’ll never listen
When their hands creep up your side
As you say No

They’ll pluck you
Out of thin air
carry you
To places you don’t want to go

They will call you pretty little thing
And proceed to destroy you

Your pretty face won’t matter
Cause they soiled your soul

Now the fear will take root and thrive
and you won’t like intimacy of any kind

Every touch
Will feel like a brand
and every hug
will burn

You will die a little everyday
So, How will you survive?

Doll. Doll. Doll. Doll.
Now, they will call you a mess!
Is this broken thing even a doll anymore?



52 thoughts on “Doll

    1. I agree. There is this pattern to hurt and control, to possess another. To harass, exploit. To mentally and emtoionally destroy somebody who trusted you. Kids, women, men, affected in some way or another.. it’s a mad, chaotic world.
      thank you for your thought πŸ’™πŸ’™

      Liked by 2 people

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