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Joint ball to joint hole,
no necessity for a soul,
Because these are capsules,
like molecules,
They are but vessels,
One of many to line the tressel,
They are empty but can be filled,
Eyes that look as if they've killed
Though they can be filled they are never full,
The strings that puppet masters pull,
A trapped energy source,
Like blood that pumps its course,
That is a doll,
Do you still want to buy one at the mall?
Mine I keep in the attic,
Sounds sadistic?
When they began moving,
I took pictures proving....
So there they shall stay,
Getting angrier if I may,
until their hatred solidifies,
And my being molifies...