Heart as cold as a cold heart could be,
He slithers his way into the damp room.
A shiver runs deep as he grabs hold of me,
I hold my breath, waiting for my doom.
Black eyes examine me from head to toe,
Making sure every plastic piece is clean.
His grip tightens as he smiles, and I know
That after this, no more would I be seen.
My abstract heart skips a beat
As he pokes tiny holes in my limbs.
The string has been strung, here comes the heat!
My fear overflowing from the brim.
He hammers, and sews, every delicate part
Illusive pain radiating from my fabric skin.
Finally, I am complete! His "Work of Art"
But the humiliation has yet to begin.
The next day he takes me out of the box
In my hair he ties a pretty blue Bow.
He pushes on clean white socks
Yes! I'm ready. Let's start the show!
Out we go into the ear-splitting crowd
My heart sinks as he shows his rotten teeth.
The noise is too much, the crowd too loud
But I smile and hide the degradation forming beneath.
After the show, and many more,
I no longer want to appear.
The humiliation has formed an emotional downpour.
But I'll always be the puppet, never the puppeteer.