Regrets of a Rag Doll

I am a rag doll
with too little stuffing
The threads holding me together
are clearly visible

Others notice
(my size)
They question themselves
Compare themselves
They want to rip out
stitches and let lumpy
yellow padding out
(this is what they tell me)

It’s not my fault,
my choice,
I tell them
“Maybe not,” they say,
“but it’s mine.”

So they stretch and rip
and spill their insides

And though they’ll never say,
I know
I’m the reason

why