There sits a doll
With porcelain skin, cracked and pale
She always sits at the end of the hall
A ominous aura draped upon her like a veil
When no one’s near
Listen closely and you might just hear
A tune she whistles, sorrow and pain woven into the sound
A chilling tune coming from something lost yet found
A doll that knows, and always remembers
A chilling past, from a time long turned to embers
The doll sits there, waiting to be held once more
But held again she will not be, for the one who held her is locked behind deaths door
The doll sits were a girl once had
A girl that loved the doll as a childhood friend, not as a toy
A bond of trauma and joy
The scars that girl bore were mended by the doll, not by her mom or dad
For love she knew not
Beaten and hurt and shunned for every thought
She always hurt, yet always hugged the doll
Furthermore,she always sat in the chair at the end of the hall
Locked away, banished by parents that were scary to those little green eyes
And every night she held her doll and whistled, then she always cries
For parents love she never knew
And moments spent not being hurt were few
As years passed and time took toll
The young girl so young now grown with her mind falling down a endless hole
She wished for comfort and still loved to whistle and hold the doll, which was her only hope
Yet still a day came when she put the doll in the chair and was hanging from rope
Her body just swinging, still there today
Her parents, curse their souls, left her that way
Care they did not and left her to rot
A skeleton now still hanging from rope now devoid of life and thought
Everyday that skeleton sways and the doll whistles
House overgrown with weeds and a garden of thistle
In a house full of fear with no hope, by a skeleton hanging on rope at the end of the hall.
There sits a doll.