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Aug 2019
Dummy turns a plastic cheek,
Ready for a drunk thugs slug of fist on PVC.

Father made dummy boy like some hurried Pinocchio,
But wood was too good,
Too alive,
Too sensing.

Plastic bends and buckles as the brutes words distorts a flexing mind,
Days pass and the dummy child goes to school.

A dummy listens but has no life of its own,
No words, works or wants,
No defence.

School boys laughs at the dummy child,
But the dummy has nothing to return.

Dummy boy leaves school,
Scared, scarred, plastic head stretched like elastic,
Tragic.

A dummy site in a window,
The object of passing eyes and self customised to court attention.
Plastic fool throws himself to the crowd and the whims of those who see his flaws.
I was bullied by my father and only now am I writing to respond
Written by
Stephen Moore  M
(M)   
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