This cold seeps into my bones.
These war-worn bones...
these putrid bones.
Hold me up,
the puppet I am,
so willing and eager to take your hand.
I’ll kiss you with my painted lips.
I’ll press to you my plastic hips.
My button eyes will steal your fire and soon
I’ll be what you desire.
I’ll let you feel my woven hair and soon
you’ll need me more than air.
Don’t
play with me like
I’m your toy,
then
simply leave me
lying there.