To you, I'm not a human.
Nor am I a person.
I have no real thoughts, feelings, or fears,
to you I'm something plastic,
and you can just wind up my gears.
You dress me up,
make me "pretty"
but really you look at me with no remorse,
and certainly no pity.
You laugh at me as if you own me.
You act like this is your play place.
I can't act on my own,
I'm stuck in a daze.
You make me suit your needs,
then toss me away, to only be replaced.
I work so hard for you,
but what care do you have to return?
For this place is your dollhouse,
and I am simply another doll.
YOU ARE READING
Sure, Thanks, I am Fine
PoetryDepression Anxiety Insomnia Heartbreak Unloved Crazy Scared Joyful Happy Bullied Everything listed here is something I've either felt or gone through. As have many others. But is it easy to say out loud? No, it never is.
