Sitting on a high shelf,
your once white dress, slowly turning brown.
Without the ability to feel sorrow,
your soulless eyes share unseeing and never knowing.
You are none the wiser to the changes that surround you,
the horror you would feel if you could see how the seasons change,
it would make your heart break,
if you had such a thing.

No matter your dilemma of having no heart,
soon a silly thing like that won’t matter,
and maybe God shined his light on you in that way,
your heart would be a tangled mess.
No silent pain for you to bear alone,
a painted smile is the only sign of life,
at least what would be a life.

You’ve been left behind with all the other trinkets,
and remembrances of a forgotten childhood.
You were once put on the highest shelf for her regard for you,
a little girl whose larger than life problems caused her to cling to you in fright.
You were the best friend that held her even greater secrets,
you were her shelter from the harsh winds and chilling, brutal bite of the hurricane brewing inside her home.
Now you are condemned to the life of a horrible, long silence,
and damned to be part of a childhood better forgotten,
but never forgiven.

Your once white dress is now brown,
once graceful and perfectly balanced,
you are now tittering on the edge about to break into pieces.

You were a good friend,
as good of a friend you could be considering you were made of breakable glass.