(no subject)
THis is very long and not lj cut. I can't remember how. Get over it.
The Doll
You've put me away in the world once before,
Only to bring me out to play again,
Forgetting you can only have one,
You put me back on the shelf again.
You never seemed to realize
What annoyances you've caused.
I don't want to be played with briefly.
If you take me off the shelf
You should prepare to care and nurture.
I am there for you when you cannot be there for me.
Trouble is caused by memory,
Memory of good things and happy times.
When there is nothing
Memory is always there.
Good things make us sad,
For we want them again while we are alone in the world.
We know what we will never have,
We understand why,
But the pain still exists.
A playfully mean streak may appear and then disappear.
Just a reminder of what grief was given
Granted you put yourself through a hell,
But it was on my account.
You got what you wanted,
But you put me away again.
Do you truly understand what you did?
Even if you don't,
I'm always here in the world.
Everyone wants to play,
Yet no one wants to keep me.
Maybe it is better that way,
Less to care for,
Less responsibility.
Granted I like the world,
But I do want to share it.
Someone to hold me,
Someone to care.
I care,
But that may be my problem,
I care too much.
I'm always wanting something I cannot have.
A sad vicious cycle,
I get pulled down,
Good things happen briefly,
I get put away again.
I miss those good things.
It makes me feel sad and lonely.
Sometimes I wonder if maybe,
Just maybe no one really cares,
If maybe they want to use me,
Or if maybe they're scared.
There are somethings I cannot give.
I would like to but somehow I just cannot.
Sometimes I wonder if that is why.
Things should be more than that.
I enjoy learning new things.
Sometimes I get so lost I'm happy,
In my own world.
In my world,
My perfect world,
I would share it.
I would be happy,
There would be cats,
A cello too,
Lots of purple,black and red pretty things,
No computers but lots of books,
Pretty scented candles,
And paints and canvases,
And pretty clothes,
And lots of yummy food too.
It would be my beautiful and happy.
But back to the world I go,
Lonely and sad,
Until I am taken out again
And the cycle continues.
My porcelein face grows tired
With each cycle.
I am taken down,
Given a new face,
Refreshed clothes,
Repaired to look new again.
I am no longer tattered and worn.
I am happy once again,
Until I am put back,
Tired and worn again,
Left to find my own inner happiness.
Ah how blessed are those of us with "outlets". And more so, those of us with many.
The Doll
You've put me away in the world once before,
Only to bring me out to play again,
Forgetting you can only have one,
You put me back on the shelf again.
You never seemed to realize
What annoyances you've caused.
I don't want to be played with briefly.
If you take me off the shelf
You should prepare to care and nurture.
I am there for you when you cannot be there for me.
Trouble is caused by memory,
Memory of good things and happy times.
When there is nothing
Memory is always there.
Good things make us sad,
For we want them again while we are alone in the world.
We know what we will never have,
We understand why,
But the pain still exists.
A playfully mean streak may appear and then disappear.
Just a reminder of what grief was given
Granted you put yourself through a hell,
But it was on my account.
You got what you wanted,
But you put me away again.
Do you truly understand what you did?
Even if you don't,
I'm always here in the world.
Everyone wants to play,
Yet no one wants to keep me.
Maybe it is better that way,
Less to care for,
Less responsibility.
Granted I like the world,
But I do want to share it.
Someone to hold me,
Someone to care.
I care,
But that may be my problem,
I care too much.
I'm always wanting something I cannot have.
A sad vicious cycle,
I get pulled down,
Good things happen briefly,
I get put away again.
I miss those good things.
It makes me feel sad and lonely.
Sometimes I wonder if maybe,
Just maybe no one really cares,
If maybe they want to use me,
Or if maybe they're scared.
There are somethings I cannot give.
I would like to but somehow I just cannot.
Sometimes I wonder if that is why.
Things should be more than that.
I enjoy learning new things.
Sometimes I get so lost I'm happy,
In my own world.
In my world,
My perfect world,
I would share it.
I would be happy,
There would be cats,
A cello too,
Lots of purple,black and red pretty things,
No computers but lots of books,
Pretty scented candles,
And paints and canvases,
And pretty clothes,
And lots of yummy food too.
It would be my beautiful and happy.
But back to the world I go,
Lonely and sad,
Until I am taken out again
And the cycle continues.
My porcelein face grows tired
With each cycle.
I am taken down,
Given a new face,
Refreshed clothes,
Repaired to look new again.
I am no longer tattered and worn.
I am happy once again,
Until I am put back,
Tired and worn again,
Left to find my own inner happiness.
Ah how blessed are those of us with "outlets". And more so, those of us with many.