Sparkatale

On a shelf is a little doll.
She loves to play,
Aims to please.
Cannot offer advice in words,
But listens eternally.
Always there to offer hugs
And warmth of the heart.

Upon her face
A painted smile—
Forever forced to grin.
Within her body
A crystal heart—
Gives while it is dented.

And so a child takes her up
Into its arms and smiles,
Full of glee.
And so she is a forever friend
To a person soon to become
Her closest companion.

The child lavishes such affection
On the doll upon the shelf,
Hugs her at night upon slumber's arrival
Whispers to her all the secrets
Confides the doll is
"My best friend."

But the child eventually gets angered
Turns on the best friend.
Snatches her from upon the shelf
And throws her against the wall.
Over and over,
The doll is lobbed through space
Smashing the walls with awful force
Rattles the soul
And puts another crack in the heart.

But it's always okay
When the child hugs the doll again
And apologizes—
If apology is warranted, as sometimes
It is not—
Life moves on,
And she is coveted once more

Until the next outburst,
When she's thrown and beaten
All over again.

Repeatedly bounces off the walls
Spends so much time on the floor
Although she is loved,
She finds no immunity from
Undue vengeance.

The painted smile,
With time,
Fades away.
The crystal heart
Gives until it's broken.

And soon she's just a wasted thing
That lays in the dusty corner
Of a former best friend's room.
After all
She's just a toy.