Inside my chest, no heart beats,
but a small wooden cabinet rests;
filled with forgotten threads, silent buttons,
and dolls—each carrying a hidden truth.
Branches have grown from my hands,
leaves cling like healed scars upon my skin,
and my button eye gazes into another world—
a world where dreams are stitched together
and memories never truly fade.
I am the silent dollmaker,
carrying my secrets within this chest,
and every thread is a bridge
between past and present,
between root and flight. 🌿
basileus
