Isobell's dolls

we rounded the corner laughing  
and there she was  
Isobell the youngest of us  
rag dolls in a heap, playing  
   
she'd renamed them all  
one for each of the family  
charming in its way  
   
only, the one named after her  
was having its stuffing beaten out  
by the one she'd called mother  
talking up a storm of abuse  
   
wasn't a psychologist back then  
just a kid myself  
but knew enough to get the chills  
backed up without a word  
   
and yeah the one named after me  
just lay in a heap with the rest  
smile sewn on  
not doing a damn thing  
   
last few years  
when life beat the daylights out of her  
we stood right by her  
taking hit after hit  
loved her thorough  
didn't back up for a second  
   
took the stuffing  
right out of us  
ended up back there  
in a rag doll heap  
smiles sewn on  
   
but if this time  
we saved her some of the beating  
then we
Isobell's rag dolls  
have no regrets