the doll who wanted more

Just a pretty doll on the shelf

Sitting around waiting

On the arrival of a hero to come to the store and save me

Making sure to keep clean for the presentation of appearance

Patrons passing through

But none with major interest

Suddenly somebody stops to give recognition

“What a pretty doll you have here

I’m glad I paid attention

For her dress is only designed by the upmost best

Her face is painted on with such a rare uniqueness

Her skin was created with at least three shades of brown

Her hair is so full, certainly nothing similar of a doll

I can not believe she hasn’t been picked up”

Cashier responds “your lucky day, I’ll wrap her up”

“That is fine but wrap her with ease

Don’t want to risk ruining such a prized beauty”

But perhaps too soon these words are spoken

Not long after departing her conditions worsen

Apparently, her interest was one short lasted

A couple weeks’ later she’s thrown in a basket

She sits; she sits waiting for someone to come

Take her out of this place and back to where she’s from

Where she was allowed to stay pretty and clean

Now dust mites and darkness is all that she sees

What happened to the interest that the buyer showed before

My face is still unique and my hair is still full

My dress is still the one designed by the best

Nothing has changed except the environment in which I’m kept

Why did you take me here just to let me rot

I was better where I was

Here I’ll be forgot

Your interest was rather brief, not good enough to keep

You’ve taken me to this dark place

Somewhere I should not be

The life of a doll is a very short one

When you’re purchased by someone who buys just for fun

The fun runs out and I am put in a basket

The life of a doll is one rather tragic

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my name is Tripoli. pronounced TRIP-AH-LEE. Growing up my mother always told me I could be whatever I wanted to be. I believed her, I still do.

2 thoughts on “the doll who wanted more

  1. Such an awesome poem I can relate to! I have been the doll on the shelf. That buyer doesn’t realize what treasure he/she had; but as long as the doll knows the value of self-worth there is still hope that the right owner will come along in time and rescue her from the basket covered in darkness. Dusting the dirt from her eyes , wiping off her pretty dress, caressing their fingers through her full hair….Noticing all her wonderful characteristics that makes her the winning-prize. That’s the one she wants to have her heart, not someone who is going to abuse her beauty. – One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

  2. You actually make it seem so easy with your presentation but I find this matter to be really something which I think I
    would never understand. It seems too complex and very broad for me.
    I’m looking forward for your next post, I’ll
    try to get the hang of it!

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