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The Doll This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

In the attic
Suffocated with dust
And moldy old boxes
Filled with broken, useless things
Sits a doll
Whose name I can't recall
As glass doll in a brown box
With deceiving blue eyes
That never, ever blink
And shiny red hair that is cold
And smooth to the touch
Of my trembling fingers
She wears a purple dress
And black mary-janes that used
To be glossy
Her cheeks are rosy red
A pained smile has been forced
On her terribly tired face
What is your name
Sad and terrible doll?
Is it Donna or Chelsey?
Reba? Sarah? Miranda?
I can't remember
Even though we used to be friends
We used to talk to each other
And protect one another
From monsters in the closet
Or under the bed
That was all before I "grew" up
And hide you away
Embarrassed that I even had you
I threw you away
Into this place of endless time
Are you mad, forgotten doll?
Somehow, imagining you angry
Makes me very much afraid
Your glassy eyes, so happy
Yet hateful
I imagine are glaring at me
In my mind, I can hear your voice
Asking why had I thrown you away
Why had I left you up here
In this dark, never changing place
Of broken and useless things
Terrified, I strike the doll
As hard as I could
Weightless, her glass body flies
To the dusty floor
Still her haunting voice speaks
It comes from the doll
From inside my own mind
From every box, wooden board
Every particle of dust
That surrounds my shaking form
I had abandoned you
My best friend who had always
Been there for me
To stifle my tears
And keep my company
I can't even remember the name that
I had given you

Every fiber of the cardboard boxes
Every piece of glass from the broken kitchen appliances
Every rotting piece of paper in the old books
Dust, the wooden boards of the floor, wall and ceiling
Every single things that had stood witness as I had thrown this doll into despair
Screamed out her name is a hellish chorus

ANNABELLE

Named after the sister
Who had been lost to cancer
Not seven years after I was born
The doll was given to me by Momma
As a present to help with the pain

Oh god, I have am guilty
I cannot deny or excuse my crime
To the jury of the forgotten
I, who had dared enter here
Had to pay for my crime
Because I had abandoned her
I had left her all alone
In this horrible nightmarish place

She hadn't been real to me
Just an object I could use
Now, I see with frighting clarity
That Annabelle is very much alive
She has a soul like my own
But this only scares me more
Because now I know
That I won't ever be free of her





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