We are the lost and found,
Sitting hopelessly like dolls in market stalls,
False smiles bruised into cheeks,
Bright eyes ached into faces,
Please pick me, we say, please pick me.
We do not soar through life like paper bags
In summer breezes.
We sit on shelves,
Waiting, impartial to our pain,
Tapping against the mahogany,
And humming lullabies to ourselves.
Sitting hopelessly like dolls in market stalls,
False smiles bruised into cheeks,
Bright eyes ached into faces,
Please pick me, we say, please pick me.
We do not soar through life like paper bags
In summer breezes.
We sit on shelves,
Waiting, impartial to our pain,
Tapping against the mahogany,
And humming lullabies to ourselves.
Ooh, interesting blog, lol - I like it. :)
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