- Tattered Doll -
I stand at an intersection cross street,
In a perpetual haunting cloud,
Always, always, always reminding me,
Always always always I look down my hallway,
The steady words "I miss you"
Every hallway, every echo, every turn around the house,
What went wrong?
All I carry in my hands
I've lived years now without you here,
The world remains unfamiliar without you here,
waiting for the sign to turn.
You're nowhere in sight
and I cannot feel my feet anymore,
as if the shaking ground beneath me might soon
crack and bleed.
(Like my heart.)
a mist I cannot dispell,
I am surrounded by your voice,
your promises.
(Like splinters in my skin I cannot remove.)
haunting me,
echos of your ghost never allowing me to forget
all the actions and words I hated,
that we spoke and shared,
that should have never been.
(Like a closed casket, burying me alive.)
down the alley, down the street,
hoping to see you there,
ready to lead me out of this haunting hell,
your arms open to me,
holding me.
(Like a sweet little doll.)
strike me to the core.
At this streetcorner intersection,
I lose myself,
and feel myself,
"miss you."
I will always love you.
I will always miss you.
I bear the scars of you upon my skin.
(Like a tattered doll.)
remind me of every lie that passed,
every life that was overwhelmed and changed,
of every mark you left upon my heart.
(Like splinters upon my skin that hurt beyond compare.)
I still do not know,
but I know thoughts of mine
always return to you,
like moths to a flame,
to your cold, cold forest
where your casket lies.
(Can I join you, Daddy? Why don't you return my calls?)
is your sweet souvenior,
a memory of faded silver and gold.
(Like the lining on the glasses you wore.)
yet everywhere I go seems so unfamiliar.
Indifference is stranger to me,
yet has found firm holding in my being.
I miss you so, but I cannot find you anywhere.
I am an empty shell of myself,
tattered, torn, cast aside and forgotten.
(Like a tattered doll.)
and I feel like a miscast character in an unlikely play.
I tried to bury you alive,
locking you in a casket,
burying you under my house of Autumn Fall.
Now the leaves don't grow,
splinters lock in my hair,
and I am torn, falling apart.
(Like a tattered doll.)
