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Rated: E · Poetry · Adult · #2012234
A true poem about something found by me 30 years back, and how I have come to relate to it

-Ragdoll-
by Keaton Foster
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Ruby
Are her eyes
Vacant
Is her smile
Her limbs
Repaired
Again and again
Her body nude
Shapeless and rude
Her hair
Wild
Free of care
Her features
Perilous defenses
To pretty
To look away
To hideous
To ever escape
She could only
Be loved by another
As mutilated as herself
She could only be kept
By someone who
Would dare not object
Not an ounce of doubt
Fills any part of my chest
I know why she is here
Just as I understand why it is
That I have remained
Displaced
Is her soul
No one knows
Who created her
And
No one knows
Why they
Didn’t destroy her
Upon my stoop
She was left
Abandoned
I suspect
No one ever
Came back for her
No one ever
Returned to see her
On the darkest day
I retrieved her
And now
For nearly three decades
She has occupied a space
At the corner of my desk
A spot where the light
From a single fixture lamp
Barely touches
A place where darkness
Is always close
She is propped up
By some classic books
Written by men
I fear ever madder than me
When I lose my place
When I need an audience
When I need something
Rather someone to listen
It is her that stands in
It is her that is relied upon
She is my litmus test
My grading rubric
All that is to pass
And all that is to fail
Is decided by her alone
If these words are convicts
Then she is without question
Judge, jury, and executioner
I hold what she says
And more importantly
What she won’t
Above all else
I never touch her
I refuse to move her
The only time I ever have
Is when I took her from my stoop
To where she now resides
I could never destroy her
I know and understand
That forever
She will always exist
That she will always be
Part of me and my process
Part of me and my stories
Part of all that I am
And all that fail to be
Upon my death
If ever when
I’m sure that another
So deserving will find her
Whomever will of course
Be mesmerized like me
They will come to reply on her
Just as I always have
I call her ragdoll
Sure it’s more of a description
Than a proper moniker
I’ve have never
Felt any kind of need
To properly address her
As anything more
She alone is the audience in which
I place all of my fears and concerns
She is my most trusted critic
I reply on her more than most
There she sits at the edge
Of both darkness and light
There she remains
Just as I placed her
For all of my days
She will be a silent observer
To the brilliant madness
To which I am so inclined…


Ragdoll
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014.

© Copyright 2014 Keaton Foster: Know My Hell! (keatonfoster at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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