This is a poem I wrote fot Sunguitoh of Rozen Maiden. The twistid, broken doll.
She sits apart upon her shelf,
and there she plays pretend.
That she is dead and not alive.
And no one fails to comprehend.
Everyone passes her by.
But it seems she likes to be alone.
They can’t see her for what she is.
Or into the angry silence she calls her own.
People pick her up and carry her around.
She’s grown weary with the use.
They never realized the pain,
made her embrace their abuse.
The nothing doll is so unstable.
Made by the so-called victims of her fate.
If only they had paid some attention.
If only they realized her nothing was hate.
You take her home and put her away.
At night she comes alive.
Taking life from the buyer.
And that is how she survives.
She’ll tear out your eyes so you can’t cry.
And let you die for all your lies.
I am the nothing doll.
And hate is all I see.
I am the empty death you hold.
You’re the ones who set me free.
Take the nothing doll away.
And all that’s left is me.
