A curious thing it would be to live in a doll's house. Where the world around you was just another box. And all the time you felt more trapped as the seconds went on. Dandy knew how it felt. Nothing was real in her house. The lights refused to turn on and water wouldn't poor from the faucett. The oven didn't work and the covers on her bed were simply painted. As she realized everything was fake, she grew all the more frustrated and fed up. Even her best friend, her dog, Sniffles, she found was made of plastic. Something that would melt under heat. Dandy wished she could not be so different from what she knew but she was Dandy. Dandy had no last name because she didn't know where she came from. She did at one time but all her memories seemed to evaporate in her mind. An impossible situation had occured and Dandy had no idea how to get herself out of it. I cannot write anymore about the poor girl named Dandy because I do not know her fate. Perhaps she ends up happy and feels she belongs or possibly she will never. I apologize if I have confused you with my ramblings but, you see, I'm Dandy.
YOU ARE READING
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PoetryA collection of different pieces I have written over the years. I'll continue to add to this so check back for more pieces. Please keep in mind that none of the pieces are edited so my grammar isn't quite up to par. Comment and vote, if you want...
