Cling To Poem by Cycle Wakka

The rice straw you harvested—
Let's make a doll, just like everyone in the village.
But you hid it, didn't you?
The part eaten by insects, deep inside the doll.

I volunteered—
To become a scarecrow,
To protect the precious rice.
Rain doesn't bother me. I'm tied stronger than other straws.
Birds don't scare me. I feel no pain—because I'm just a doll.

Under the blazing summer sun, the other rice rejoiced.
Insects swarmed, and birds gathered to feast on them.
By the time I noticed, my original shape was gone.

And then I found it—
The place where you hid it.
Tears came—of relief, and hatred.

Someone from another village passed by.
"You're no longer just a scarecrow, " they said.
"Look at your feet."
My gnawed-off limbs had split in two.
"The patterns on your chest are beautiful.
This time, try building your legs on your own."

Saying that,
They left behind many of the things you had hidden—
Right at my feet.