Charred

I am a doll with long charred fingers,
snapped in childhood.

The tips cause me pain, so
I am afraid to reach out, so cannot.
When I am touched, I let loose easily and my friends fall away like papers.

How the strings of my heart lament.
The love others gave me hurts most.
My torn strings ache and weep
yet can sing only to the cold world
only to the wide world
the sea
the sky
the vast black night.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.