The Rag Doll
Before I was a doll, I was several dozen rags,
before I was the rags, I was made of hand-me-downs,
I was shirts that were too small, and skirts that had a stain,
pants that had a tear, overalls covered in paint.
Before I was these things, I was bought and sold in stores,
displayed in shiny packages and hung to be admired,
before this, I was fabric, pristine and pressed and new,
and before all this a bushy ball of cotton in a field,
a plant grown from the dirt that I now sit upon and rot,
as a rag doll with one eye, a crooked smile and dirty hair.
I was loved and I was useful in all of my forms but now,
all that I can do is hope I will return into the dust
that gave birth to me, so that I can begin my life anew.