I disturb the cobwebs
in the dusty attic.
In the corner of my mind,
I can recover a faint
memory of a doll
I had loved as a child,
A doll with dark changing eyes.
I find her,
but she isn't how she used to be.
Needles are stuck in her eyes.
Because of the evil,
she cannot see.
Her dress is torn.
She could not survive
more wear and tear.
The matted mess on her head
was once her hair;
It will never be smooth again.
I recall her being
tossed around
years ago.
The boxes, now,
preserve her lifelessness.
Slowly,
I remove the needles from her eyes,
and stick them into
the fabric flesh of her chest.
Then I rip off her head,
and throw her remains
to the floor.