Another doll torn to rags, naked and

Disheveled, marked with strands of red and black.

The last had marker upon her face,

The one before that with head bent around.

 

The boys see another boy playing too rough,

It is always the boys who wreck the dolls,

Toss them across the room, twist them where they shouldn’t,

Burn them to see how the plastic melts.

 

The boys lie in wait for the mean boy,

Hope he screams or leaves something behind that

Will show his house where he has

Sleepovers with other mean boys.

 

The boys hope he has no more dolls,

Hope to stop the games he plays,

Put him in a playground where the teachers

Keep an eye on him.