Broken.

A doll upon a shelf, covered in dust.
Cracks upon her face, joints begin to rust.
Inside she was crying, though no one could hear.
All she wanted was a friend, all she had was fear.
Her owner did not treat her well, he left her broken and abused.
She still confided in him, believed his words were true.
“You’re nothing but a whore, a dirty fucking whore.”
And she never once though to walk out through the door.
The doll was raised to believe that he owned her soul.
So she never put up a fight and gave him full control.
Now she knows why she should have ran so long ago.
Stuck there on that shelf, filled with misery and woe.
She hid her heartbreak with anger and blind rage.
Allowing the beast out of its cage,
The beast roamed free, eager to destroy,
Though the doll never forgot who used her as their toy.
And to this day it haunted her, again and again.
That man had destroyed her.
He left her broken.
♠ ♠ ♠
Something I wrote on Tumblr and decided to post it here.