Wooden Dolls

Handcrafted by the artiste, carpentry
Leading life performing huswifery
Unaware and oblivious, it trudges
Pleasing the audience, full of grudges
Left the instruction manual, bereft
The undeveloped boy hands, curtailed it
It repines for lack of diligence
Shall it just congregate dust, succorless?
Stacked on a shelf, it is now useless
Since feeble hands avowed they knew it best,
No longer will it be titled, eminent

The doll now submitted to a new owner
Imitating the pious, only one controller
Like the others, now clean, it moved swift
Pleasing only the creator, no pinkt
The original manual, was fine
Because so many hands, create severed lines
Revelation, the visage disappeared
Life for the doll was more than its own pelf
I can only imagine if the doll looked itself
It would learn to look above at the lights
Which would determine the path of its own life?