What is it I see on that broken chair?

Perhaps someone had left the dirty laundry to be done,

What is this smell emanating from the rotten clothes?

Seems like someone has used cheap deodorants to make it go away.

How is it nobody is noticing that there is also something moving beneath this heap?

What is it I see coming out?

A tiny ash ridden hand of a charred doll pulling out.

Look at its face charcoaled, shocked

by the mortar you threw at his school

Look at the body that looks dead,

despite the beats it produces in its cold chest.

How strange that doll is,

that it is no more but it looks undead.

The eyes also open with a flash of life

the doll looks around to search for its belonging

But this wasn't its house.

Look at the dew forming in his eyes.

Oh my god! Oh my god!

This is no doll.

Put the clothes away! the woman in the room yells

This is not your tattered used doll

This is my son sitting on that chair.