Poem: The Ribbon-Twirling Dancing Dolly – 06/10/19

 She joyously twirls bright ribbons yet feels dead inside,
With a knowledge that what was once there,
Fresh-faced, bright, youthful, still alive,
Is now broken, irreparable,
Scattered in pieces upon the stage,
An urban pavement,
Nothing to show for the destruction,
No sense of inner pride or holding her head up high.
Her dolly-brightness is a façade
The light and shade a humorous method
At relaying that inside she is still ignited
Still burning with life;
One only has to look at her lack of brightened eyes
To take in this scene with a sense of absent mirth.
Oh, how she could have reached the heights
Become more than she had ever been
How she could have flown into the hemisphere
Succeeding and achieving at building a life
Of her own.
But here she is
Dead as a doornail because of the path that she chose,
To vacuously entertain and be admired rather than use her mind,
To exercise the chemistry of her intelligent brain

For a while she was simply an amusement
A joke
Something mocked behind open hands
Just something to be viewed in passing
upon the set stage.

But with time, hopefully she’ll rectify her life
Breathe in once more
And live a great freedom, a life
Without recollection of that strife.
Because dollies are meant to play
Entertain their owners
Give them joy for hours upon days
And seemingly there is nothing wrong
With amusing another
When it is performed with great respect of oneself
And with an allowance of renewed life and vigour.
Thus, with her self-justification and self-talk
She feels less dead inside now,
Her stitched-shut eyes now become visible once more,
Brightened with the knowledge
that her presence is again wanted
She is popular,
Not cast aside onto the floor.
A renewed sense of popularity,
A chance to regain a zest for life,
To provide them with who she was meant to be -
She throws down her ribbons
Which kept her bound and down.

Altered, affected and no longer ill at ease
She strives for something more,
Something less vapid,
A role in life where she could be
Acknowledged as being more than what she’d been designed for,
Her eyes are finally open enough to see.

© 2019 Alice Well Art, Lauren M. Hancock also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved.

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