The Rag Doll

Before I was a doll, I was several dozen rags,

before I was the rags, I was made of hand-me-downs,

I was shirts that were too small, and skirts that had a stain,

pants that had a tear, overalls covered in paint.

Before I was these things, I was bought and sold in stores,

displayed in shiny packages and hung to be admired,

before this, I was fabric, pristine and pressed and new,

and before all this a bushy ball of cotton in a field,

a plant grown from the dirt that I now sit upon and rot,

as a rag doll with one eye, a crooked smile and dirty hair.

I was loved and I was useful in all of my forms but now,

all that I can do is hope I will return into the dust

that gave birth to me, so that I can begin my life anew.