In a dark and lonely corner sat a body made of wood <br />Lifeless and cold. And, not really of any good. <br />People laugh and scoffed at him 'cause he was no work of art. <br />But every harmless laugh tore away at his wooden heart. <br />The jokes, they say, never got to him <br />Not once did he cry. <br />Always with his painted smile <br />And a twinkling in his eye. <br />However time passed <br />And the puppet grew old. <br />And that twinkling in his eye? <br />It never was quite so bold. <br />And people came- <br />-And people went, <br />Always in their rush.. <br />Never taking notice that <br />The Puppet turned to dust.<br /><br />Kent Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-puppet-11/
