• The broken doll weeps in his case

    For he knows he will never be bought.

    His faux heart beats sorrowfully in his plastic chest,

    But no one will hear his torturous cries.

    Never will he feel the sun upon his false skin.

    ‘Pick me! Pick me!’ He cries,

    Yet no one will listen.

    He weeps evermore, but they fail to hear

    The broken toy’s pleads.

    The doll cries in his cardboard case,

    For he knows he’ll never be opened.

    Never will he feel the sun upon his false skin,

    Nor the rain on his hair,

    Never will he feel the sensuous fingers

    Of the children of old upon his plastic skin…

    Nor the touch of a beloved owner,

    Playing with him one last time

    Before eternal sleep claims him...

    Never to be played with,

    Thrown away like a broken vase

    Torn asunder by the forces of the one he loves

    Who he loves, but will never be loved in return.

    He weeps, for he knows his fate.

    He knows he’ll never be free from the confines of this cardboard cell.

    This oh so hated cardboard prison.

    He weeps, for he knows his time for freedom…

    Will never come forevermore.