I'd hate to be a rag doll.
For a rag doll has no choice.
No life.
No emotions.
No control over herself.

With lifeless buttons eyes she stands victim.
To our torture.
To our pain.
To the sanity that slowly drifts away.

Always a smile plays on her lips.
But is are rag doll truly happy.
Is are rag doll really ours,
Our toy?
Our playmate?
Our joyous friend?
Is she who we see?

Smiling.
Always smiling.
Always limp.
Always lifeless.
Are rag doll is a toy.
A victim of our torture.
Our life.
Our control.

Sometimes, I am the rag doll.
No control over myself.
Others moving my limbs.
Others choosing my emotions.
My voice.
My thoughts.
Always with the smile that never speaks true.

As a rag doll life is emotionless.
As a rag doll life is bare.
As a rag doll life, is out of your hands.

Do you see the pretty rag doll?
The one with a smiling face?
With her blue button eyes?
With her curly yarn hair?
What a pretty rag doll.

Oh how I'd hate to be her.