A Doll's Lament. Poem by Simply Ruby
A Doll's Lament.
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop
There goes her childhood along with her innocence
ripped away by their filthy hands
they feel so short lived much like the bubbles she used to play with
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop
There goes her sanity and common sense
dragging along with them the happiness she once felt
allowing strange feelings to enter her heart.
Feelings too dark and complex for an eight year old to fully grasp
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop
Her tender lips defiled by the vile taste of theirs.
Grotesque hands corrupting what once was pure
manipulated by lust and the insane need to play with the beautifully new porcelain doll.
Frilly dresses. Gorgeous curly hair. Brand new just out of the box
No one has play with her yet.
They don't seem to notice the tiny cracks appearing on her skin.
Perhaps they don't really care as they use and break her some more.
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop
'Come on lovely doll, we know you like it
you do always wear those pretty dresses for us'
ANGER
'playing with you is a secret we must keep
you wouldn't want me to get in trouble for something both of us did'
GUILT
'Don't ever acknowledge that doll, we spotted her the other day
clearly she prefers to play with the grown ups'
SADNESS
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.
The doll wept in the darkest of rooms
Oh it must've been something i did
Why else would monsters come after me?
Why else would they pull and tear breaking me piece by piece?
leaving a filthy broken shell
of the bright happy child i used to be
did she ever truly exist?
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop
Maniac laughter fills the room as she realizes the truth
Not her. Never her. Pure innocent doll.
It was them. The cowards. The ones her soul despises
for they were always monster
and she
she was just another victim.
You've captured here the devastating reality of so many child abuse/molestation victims. All the emotions of guilt anger and sadness - moreover you've captured how this event happening at such a young age virtually destroys the victim's soul. Common sense, self-esteem, and the ability to be one's normal happy self are all out of the window.
A refined poetic imagination, S.R. You may like to read my poem, Love And Lust. Thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/28/2024 5:27:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
By the way, not that it is much related, I also wrote about a doll that had been cursed by father time. I would say child abuse/molestation victims are much like that doll, since it's very hard to move past a traumatic event like that, they are sort of frozen in trauma.