Katherine's Doll Poem by Kewayne Wadley

Here I sit, all alone,
Woven,
Upon a shelf,
With Small push pin's throbbing from my stomach,
One purtruding through my head,
Is this my only purpose, do I truly exist,
How Will I ever know,
Constantly disguarded,
Thrown aside once used,
My hands, were they made for more, besides the dust,
Grown idle, each day,
My feet, will they ever venture to find out, how do they work,
Those hands, why do they cause so much pain,
Each insert of a pin, here or there,
the twisting, and turning of a limb,
Gone this way, that way,
Whom's image do I assume,
Am I of my own likeness,
With button's from your shirt,
Used as eyes,
Have I truly seen,
With fabric, tattered, worn,
Am I truly my own,
Have I truly lived if my chest doesn't do the same as yours,
Stuffed with cotton,
With you being my creator,
Is what you worship, the same as you've taught