Doll

I'm the doll in the window of the shop you've perused

Fair skin pale, blank white from not being used

Sown into my back, a tag labeled "One of a Kind"

(It's not very true, but I don't really mind)

The only thing not tacked on by machine, two eyes

Beady black buttons to conceal all the lies

Holes so tiny I can barely see

Only that which is handed to me

So I couldn't see those who took me from the shelf

But whoever it is, they gave me a self

A purpose, a name, a reason for life

(Even if it's one of hurting and strife)

They took me to the place they called home

Where the children would play outside in the loam

There were plenty of other pretty toys

For all the good little girls and boys

But why I was the one to be special, it's true

I really hadn't the slightest clue

Why they would take in the doll whose tag was a lie

Why they would take in one with a smile so wry

Why they would accept a puppet of no face

Because there was no feeling to put in its place

Why they would love me, I, the doll

Those were all the biggest mysteries of all

But opinions have no weight when you're merely a thing

You have no voice to let them ring

So you stay silent as they swing you about in pride

Playing their games (perhaps that one where you seek those who hide)

And they talk to you as if you're real

Almost as if you really could feel

It morphs into illusion, where you're not just a thing

Where you have a true voice and the urge to sing

Out the words you've kept quiet all along

Almost as if you really belong

But it's more of a sound, a wordless expression

To escape all the things once considered a repression

Laughter? - oh yes, laughter, it had a name too

Just like the one they used to coo

When I was with them, laughter was always around

And I could've sworn only "us" brought the sound

But it did not take long to be forgotten

All but my eyes withered and rotten

I still can catch glimpses of the life once mine

If the flashes of color are any sign

Of the people I love and once loved me back

Though it's the present tense of "love" I currently lack

For I'm dusty and faded in the corners of their minds

The chains of memories my only saving binds

But it's fine, it's in the nature of dolls like I

To be used for a purpose, then left to a goodbye

It's why I was born - no, fabricated and made

To be remembered for now but ultimately to fade

I will be there to see you through all

But the fact never changes that I still am a doll.

More random Xion poetry. Hopefully it makes some sense, how she doesn't think she's really special because she's just a copy and fake (and they really could have made more of her had they wanted and had Vexen still around, assuming only he could make Replicas), and how Roxas and Axel took her in when no one else would. I guess a toy's fate really is sad if you think about it.

Oh, and if the format is messed up, sorry and just let me know D: I used my iTouch to put this up.

Anywaaay... Reviews are appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed this random spurt of poetry. (: