Ragdoll Poem by Paula Glynn

Like a ragdoll,
I take it,
My body woven,
As if by yarn,
Easy to throw,
Across the room,
To play with my eyes,
Like a witch,
Flying on a broom,
This ragdoll,
Crying underneath the moon,

For a ragdoll,
Easily battered and bruised,
No conscience,
Just the joy of a toy,
Playing with emotions,
Demonising my devotions,
And passions,
My love of fashion,
This ragdoll,
Crying underneath the moon.

The silence of the night,
Tears to run down my face,
An entanglement of yarn,
That this ragdoll is made of,
But I still feel love,
I still have hope,
Even though this ragdoll,
Cries underneath the moon,
Always flying on her broom,
As sunlight enters my room,
For an angel has been born,
A heart having been torn,
But a heart beating nevertheless,
For a ragdoll now feels love,
The night-time shining a moon,
A ragdoll no longer crying,
Or alone in her room.