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Hey there little puppet girl,
Sowing at your broken heart,
Puppeteer can’t pay his bill,
While you just fall apart,

Hey there little puppet girl,
I bet you where once new,
But now your cloth begins to furl,
And that heart of yours is two,

I see your dusty rags,
And patches of different cloths,
Your mouth it sags,
And you’ve been nibbled by moths,

Hey there little puppet girl,
Puppeteer he neglects you,
Once kept you shiny-now keeps you dull,
Puppeteer he forgets you,

But I see you reaching out,
Begging for his touch,
Mouths sown shut can’t shout,
And only one button eye can watch,

Hey there little puppet girl,
I know that you can’t cry,
But you reek of lost will,
And a need you can’t gratify,

Hey there little puppet girl,
I bet you where once new,
But now your cloth begins to furl,
And that heart of yours is two,

I see you little puppet girl,
Ripping at your stiches,
You’re no longer rational,
Your mind is specious,

Hey there little puppet girl,
Ripped to little pieces,
Puppeteers little pearl,
Your value he decreased it.
Dear Child,
I hold so frail in my arms,
I look down and wish to protect you from all that harms,

But I know as the years grow more,
It will be harder on your choices to implore,

Your first few years will be a pleasant walk,
Where I teach and you don’t talk,

But as years go by,
A mother can only wonder what’s ahead will lie,

Soon it will be that “I don’t understand you”,
Even though I was a teenager too,

It’ll be that I am uncool,
You avoid me in public, especially at your school,

You will refuse my tender love,
I’ll be told “mom seriously that’s enough.”

We’ll disagree about boys,
Because you love him,
And I have no choice,

I’ll warn of things,
And you’ll just say “Whatever.”
As with every year my heart stings,
Because you think you’re more clever,

Dear child so small so frail,
Trust your mother and the boats she has set sail,
Trust your mother, whom upon you dotes,
She’s your mother, who to you her life devotes,

As time flies by,
So short as momentary as a sigh,
I watch her learn, I watch her grow,
As all who walk by in her soul do sow,

Will I ever be able to always protect my child?
Keep her sweet, young and undefiled,
I know her passion not mild,
Her streaks like mine is so to live wild,

But a good heart in her I did implore,
This young girl a mother does so adore,

A mother only wishes she could be there every step of the way,
And help a daughter understand,
She knows the exact games life tends to play.
I am not a Mother. But I can only imagine this is how a mother feels.

— The End —