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Sydney S Hansen

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Antique Doll
by Sydney S Hansen

Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Sydney S Hansen
•  Child's Play
•  Truth
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           >> View all 5

The story of a doll, very angry on the inside. Rhythm changes throughout, so please read carefully! Enjoy!

Sitting on a high shelf,
collecting dust
Not played with anymore,
a 'collectible'
Left alone from now on
Apparently too frail,
keeping my perfect, ancient detail
seen generations come, and go
In, and out,
a steady flow
They call me 'Antique',
If there is such a name
A priceless item,
with so much gain,
but all I want is to be loved again
To be shook up and down
I know I'm not real
I know that they lied
I know my time is now over
Pale porcelain crust
All hope is gone
Lost have they lust
Sitting here I am,
just collecting that must
I want so much, to stand up and shout,
"I have a use, you know!"
But solomenly, I just watch them come and go
Only a doll I am
I can utter not a single word,
oh how I wish, that I could be heard
Maybe I could,
and if only then,
a child would take me home with them
Though, as I am not real,
I've no more left of my child appeal
It will only get worse!
As I sit, and I age
High value's a curse
It fills me with rage
Other dolls --Those proud victorians--
get chosen so often
Day out, and day in
The anger is burning,
my polished features, ever unturning
Wishing the gawking, would soon stop,
and that I could finally leave this
'Emotional Drop' †

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