My Cries Poem by Holly Jamestone

Her curls were golden
And her eyes were such a piercing blue
Her dress was splattered polka dots
Upon a scarlet hue

I gazed at her and wanted her
But Mama shouted, “No
You put that box back on the shelf
And it is time to go! ”

The store lights bled as did my heart
And then I saw his eyes
A dark coat on his shoulders
The doll he held: my prize

I followed him into that aisle
When Mama turned her back
My sacred doll meant more to me
But why did he attack?

It’s dark in here, I’m in his trunk
Because he hated crying
My headless doll is on his floor
I fear she might be dying

If only I could play with her
I’d wipe her bloody tears
I’m sure he’ll take me back to Mom
Who’ll help to calm my fears

The light is in my eyes just now
The sun so bright I’m blind
The knife he holds must be for me
This man is so unkind

I followed him into that aisle
Oh, Mama, don't you see
The doll you shouted to put back
Was clearly meant for me

Her head is gone and now mine too
But I still have my eyes
Though thankfully they could not see
The things that caused my cries