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Literature Text
AND he was a patchwork ruin, lips sewn tightly shut to cut off what questions he had left. An attempt to silence curiosity, to corrupt his innocence. His heart intact; he’s still capable of love, perhaps the only warm thing left in his world.
HE would be content to live beneath a dream, he exists among you’re nightmares and you’re lost hope. He doesn’t struggle for escape, nor does he yearn for redemption-
He does not try and fight the state of things.
THIS is not a fairy tale, there isn’t any magic, there are no paper wings. Nothing lasts forever, not even this limbo, and that is why he tries to be a good little doll.
HE would be content to live beneath a dream, he exists among you’re nightmares and you’re lost hope. He doesn’t struggle for escape, nor does he yearn for redemption-
He does not try and fight the state of things.
THIS is not a fairy tale, there isn’t any magic, there are no paper wings. Nothing lasts forever, not even this limbo, and that is why he tries to be a good little doll.
not exactly a poem, but call it what you will.
© 2005 - 2024 ohBOBlyone
Comments2
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Intriguing....I like how you don't know what it's about until the end. It's eerie, almost macabre sounding, but comforting at the same time - nice work 
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