Do I not laugh and grieve

As if I am a human being,

Or marvel at things of beauty

Like I have a living heart?


To you I am a plastic doll

Who merely

Looks like she also has the feelings, with which

You seemingly believe that only you have been endowed


I’m not a friend or a companion,

I never could be someone you respect;

And there is nothing I could do to ever

Persuade you that I look like what I truly am:


It hurts, you know, each time I stumble, exhausted,

Against the waves of frozen ground, and fall, and growl in shame;

It’s great, you know, when I ignore this and continue

To walk, and ultimately reach my aim;


I think it’s beautiful, you know, when it is snowing

Outside, but in my chest my heart is warm;

I think it’s brave that I have left my box behind me,

And learnt to love, and to cry silently, and then to smile and joke


I think, it’s sad that you just will not see it

But only – when you must – pretend as if you do;

I think that, although fun, it’s wrong to play with people,

Who call you ‘friend’, and to treat them as dolls


How could you say to me: ‘my little sister’,

And laugh at me as if I were an ugly, broken toy?

Which one of us is it, whose feelings are not real?

Which one of us is it, who has a plastic soul?


I understand you and forgive you:

The way you saw me must have been my fault;

Perhaps, my brother, you were right: I was too trusting and silly;

I happily remain forever so

2 thoughts on “Plastic

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