The Puppet Poem by Kent Robinson

In a dark and lonely corner sat a body made of wood
Lifeless and cold. And, not really of any good.
People laugh and scoffed at him 'cause he was no work of art.
But every harmless laugh tore away at his wooden heart.
The jokes, they say, never got to him
Not once did he cry.
Always with his painted smile
And a twinkling in his eye.
However time passed
And the puppet grew old.
And that twinkling in his eye?
It never was quite so bold.
And people came-
-And people went,
Always in their rush..
Never taking notice that
The Puppet turned to dust.