A Doll Upon A Shelf
It's been a year, and I'm still here,
Not much different than before.
My plans were many, but I didn't do any
Because how could they work out?
The people all around me
wonder why I'm not myself.
But they don't know how it feels
To be a doll upon a shelf.
Pull my string and I will sing,
And dance, to make you laugh.
But walk right past, and I will just
Sit here collecting dust.
When I was new, they all proclaimed,
what joy that I would bring!
How beautiful, how bright she is!
I love to hear her sing!
But when I got old, they stopped hearing, and they didn't say a thing.
I know my arm is wobbly,
and my face, it has a crack.
But the silence sometimes feels
like being stretched upon a rack.
I did not know that getting older,
would be like dying young.
People don't want a broken doll,
when all they see is songs unsung.
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