K.M Roberston
04-08-2009, 05:18 PM
Forgotten
She sits there by her lonesome,
Her sheet white hands lay over her lap.
The people pass by but never come.
She is always awake never does nap.
Her mouth is stitched shut into a smile.
Her expression of emotion stuck in the past.
Behind it she is crying all the while.
What used to be her face is a molded cast.
Her eyes of pale blue are always open,
And seem to be those of a child.
She is full of grief that can’t be spoken.
There is a spirit inside her that longs to be wild.
Her cheeks are round and painted red,
And her white skin has a certain glow.
But inside she feels lifeless and dead
As time marches on, it becomes her foe.
Her string yellow hair falls around her face
No wind shall ever be able to mess it about.
She sits, shoulders straight, a posture of grace
But underneath this pose she loudly does shout.
She sits where Bronson meets Carter Road
The seats are empty around her wooden throne
She sits there nights and the days that followed
There is no one else around her, she sits on her own.
She watches as the people rush by,
On with the flow and bustle of the day
She cannot feel the grass, nor touch the sky.
Under her timely prison she will stay.
She was not always so alone
She once was amongst the human race
She once had a family, the freedom to roam.
She once could keep up with their charging pace.
She can remember when little fingers played with her
She can remember when the blue ribbon was placed in her hair
She can remember how she comforted those who did suffer
She can remember when her curses used to be a prayer.
But people can lose the love they once had
And put away and forget what is old
Leaving the forgotten unloved and sad
Hopeless, love isn’t just sold
When she was first put off to the side
Her face still resembled what she felt
She thought she was still loved, she had nothing to hide
But as time went by her dreams of being found started to melt
The seats around her were not always empty
Once others, lost, sat there beside her
But they soon were taken, their seats grew dusty
Her face didn’t change but she grew older
So you have heard about a tragic life
One who’s grief shall not soon stall
Until a young girl takes her and ends her strife
This is the life of a forgotten doll
She sits there by her lonesome,
Her sheet white hands lay over her lap.
The people pass by but never come.
She is always awake never does nap.
Her mouth is stitched shut into a smile.
Her expression of emotion stuck in the past.
Behind it she is crying all the while.
What used to be her face is a molded cast.
Her eyes of pale blue are always open,
And seem to be those of a child.
She is full of grief that can’t be spoken.
There is a spirit inside her that longs to be wild.
Her cheeks are round and painted red,
And her white skin has a certain glow.
But inside she feels lifeless and dead
As time marches on, it becomes her foe.
Her string yellow hair falls around her face
No wind shall ever be able to mess it about.
She sits, shoulders straight, a posture of grace
But underneath this pose she loudly does shout.
She sits where Bronson meets Carter Road
The seats are empty around her wooden throne
She sits there nights and the days that followed
There is no one else around her, she sits on her own.
She watches as the people rush by,
On with the flow and bustle of the day
She cannot feel the grass, nor touch the sky.
Under her timely prison she will stay.
She was not always so alone
She once was amongst the human race
She once had a family, the freedom to roam.
She once could keep up with their charging pace.
She can remember when little fingers played with her
She can remember when the blue ribbon was placed in her hair
She can remember how she comforted those who did suffer
She can remember when her curses used to be a prayer.
But people can lose the love they once had
And put away and forget what is old
Leaving the forgotten unloved and sad
Hopeless, love isn’t just sold
When she was first put off to the side
Her face still resembled what she felt
She thought she was still loved, she had nothing to hide
But as time went by her dreams of being found started to melt
The seats around her were not always empty
Once others, lost, sat there beside her
But they soon were taken, their seats grew dusty
Her face didn’t change but she grew older
So you have heard about a tragic life
One who’s grief shall not soon stall
Until a young girl takes her and ends her strife
This is the life of a forgotten doll