Hand-made

My tiny head fell off into the hot-boiled soup.
I see myself sitting there, a silly, ragged dupe.

You keep gnawing on my stringy arms.
But it's OK.

My buttons are floating by my ears.
In this jolly warm soup of tears.

And I will still love you when you rip off my legs and shove them in your mouth.
I'm fine.

Tearing out my stuffing in your careless spree.
All this bloody cotton, set asea.

Then you set me on fire, that was an owie-ouch.
That was not nice.

My candystriped body blackened and marred.
Why did you leave my feeble self, torched and charred.

I hope you put my heart in a goodie-box, before you burned me to a crisp.
But you know. It's allright.

My soul still shines bright.