The Little Puppet Poem by Nicholas Abaddon

The Little Puppet



The little puppet sits on the shelf
staring at me through his glass eyes

I wonder what he sees,
are my troubles fascinating to him?

His jaw opens from time to time
I wish he tell me something.

Funny or sad
maybe even a sonnet or two

All he does is gape
spy on me and pass silent judgement.

How I really hate that thing!

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Nicholas Abaddon

Nicholas Abaddon

The Sacred Plain Of The Old Ones
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