Another day in the life of a wooden boy

Unaware, unsure, but willing.
Deep as I journey into a life that seems to have lost some willingness to stride.
When walking seems so painful, as i am always walking alone.
With my head deep in my hands, wondering simply what have i done?
What i have done to deserve this, and is expected of me.
An everyday battle to keep my head up when I can feel the gravity pulling me to the ground.
As the puppet master Plays with my strings, raising its hand, watch me move and dance.
Is this what you wanted, isn’t my dancing making you happy?
The court jester has last all his laughs.
The puppet master never washes me, never sands my face, just throws my in his case, doesn’t tuck my leg back in the case.
Mishandled, misused,simply abused.
Wishing that i would have someone take care of my so that i may be restored and look new once more.
I put on nightly shows for people, oh of how they laugh and giggle. AS nobody realizes that i may have some thoughts, feelings, and emotions.
I have been chipped from use, not even a salvageable item.
Hearing the taunting
Wanting them to stop my smiling and show how i really feel
position my little wooden hands upon my knees and watch the glue pour from my eyes. Waiting one day for that beautiful fairy to make me into a real man

Another day in the life of a wooden boy

Deathsjournal

Joined March 2009

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