Dolls

• Artist: KuraNingyou
• Description: A poem I made for my profile. It doesn't follow the "rules" of poetry, but it's not exactly normal writing... So yeah.
• Date: 04/23/2011
• Tags: dolls creepy master chained kuraningyou

The dolls, the dolls, I make all the dolls, for the Master, I make all the dolls for the Master.

She sits in the front room of this place, while I am chained to the back, and people come, and I am forced to make more of me for them.

The dolls, the dolls, I make all the dolls, for the Master, I make all the dolls for the Master.

I work and I work and I work and I work, but still the Master doesn't let me leave, but that is fine, that world outside is scary.

The dolls, the dolls, I make all the dolls, for the Master, I make all the dolls for the Master.

My springs are wearing down, I hear them as I toil in the back room of that shop, I'm moving slower, the Master is mad, and now half my face is gone.

The dolls, the dolls, I make all the dolls, for the Master, I make all the dolls for the master.

It's been so long since I saw the Master, the chains have gone immobile with rust, but still I make the dolls for the Master.

I will make them until my springs run down.
I will make them until my cogs are broken.
I will make them until my joints fall out.
I will make them until I, as a doll, die

Comments

[Chamomile Dream]

You're right that this poem doesn't adhere to the usual convetions, but poetry isn't about conformation.
I like it, it's quite creepy and sucks you into the enviroment.