The Doll 
By Whitney

A bucket sits, filling itself with the soft trinkling water of a breaking building
People see each other as infectious diseases
Walking with marrow eyes
Feet are dressed in bundles of rags 
Lifeless arms hang on sides
A little girl is seen rocking her doll 
With one eye and tearing clothes, the doll cies up at passerby's
It tells its tale of peril and grief
A tale with one to many beatings and a constant fear of the storm sweeping in
The doll holds hearts to a chill with her story 
Gives pain and guilt to those that are blind to human eyes
Reaching out for love in a hopeful way
Yet expecting none in return
Things go unnoticed, without glances at life's worst
But those who can ignore the doll's stories 
Are those soundless to peril
The strongest messages come from stories told without words
Words are understood by the head
Yet lives reach streight for the heart.