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Ragdoll


By Brigitte Gastel written Nov 24, 2025 in Belleville, Illinois
Sometimes I feel just like a rag doll*
        thrown around from one corner to the other
often I think I'm gonna smother*
        by the smell of people around me
which want me to be*
        what I am not
I might as well be shot*
        for something what's not me
what in the hell they want me to be?*
        they - the society -
maybe a lifeless puppet?*
        with no own opinions, no rights
to give up all the fights*
        and remain a liveless doll
as long as I shall live? *

A rag doll can look beautiful on the outside*
        and have a heart of gold
that's what once a story told*
        I had one - I know -
she listened - when nobody cared*
        she softly leaned on me
when nobody shared*
        the pain of growing up in me
she smiled -*
        when I bursted out in tears
trying to wipe away my fears*
        she always was near
and n e v e r ran away*
        when I couldn't understand
what the anger between my parents meant - *

Her body seemed lifeless to some*
        as I was told
she looked like a bumm*
        with a face so ugly
and no identification*
        covered with dirt
not having a decent shirt*
        on her limblike body
but I was poor*
        my feelings were hurt
because she was the most precious doll to me*
        where "they" too blind to see
that she was really alive*
        twinkling her eyes
she was an angel in disguise*
        watching over my life -

        I was a little girl with braids in my hair
life wasn't really fair*
        with me - but there were millions around
of my kind - the sound*
        of their cries were nothing new
there were too many of us*
        which felt blue
but how many had a rag doll like mine*
        so lovely and so divine
seeing thru my heart -*
        she was my *only* treasure
my only dream*
        but one day I was set under pressure
to get rid of her*
        no - I didn't listen to you - Sir -
the next day she disappeared out of my life*
        you might as well could have stabbed me
with a knife*
        "Sir" or "uncle", whatever your name was
maybe I blame you for something you didn't do*
        but you never told me that it wasn't true

        So I grew up without my special doll
mended together with pieces and rags*
        but my feelings are still the same for you
do you understand the message*
        I am trying to get thru?
"My" rag doll was loved*
        despite its looks
beauty sornetimes only can be found inside*
        the shell often means nothing
its softness can be felt*
        if you just explore
you will be able to find lots more*
        of what she can give
love, peace and freedom*
        sending you warmth like the sun
mystery, silence and ease*
        - no tease -
why don't you give "your" rag doll a chance*
        she might not be as lifeless as it seems
just waiting for an imaginative mind*
        to play an honest game with her
are you ready to share*
        your moments with a rag doll?