Rag Doll

I cannot cut that last string
though the fabric is old and frayed.
It is attached to my heart
and keeps it pulsing.
It used to be attached to yours.
Yes. I know it looks shabby.
Yes. I know it makes me a sad ugly rag doll.
but I've grown used to my face in the mud,
being dragged behind your training wheels.
You are an ageless child
and I won't have you growing old without me.
So tug at that string all you like,
twist it into knots.
the smile, painted on my mouth,
will not change.
The brightness in my button eyes is dulled
my skin paled and gray
my body lifeless and limp.
but my smile, painted, will not change.