congrats!
i’m a doll now.
how exciting.
molded from silence
and a little glitter.

don’t worry—
i come with bendable limbs,
so i can fit into
whatever box
you pick this week.

my smile’s painted on
(it’s waterproof,
in case of crying).

they dressed me up
in expectations,
stitched shut my mouth,
and said,
“isn’t she adorable?”

yep.
adorable.
until i say something.
then it’s
“too much,”
“too loud,”
“too weird,”
“too real.”

so i just sit here—
legs crossed like a good girl,
thoughts pressed down
like creases in a dress.

and if i break?
don’t worry.
they’ll just glue me back
with fake apologies
and lipstick.

because doll people
don’t feel, right?
we pose.
we serve.
we shut up
and look pretty.

god,
what a dream.

and the best part?
you’ll never notice
when we rot from the inside—
as long as we still smile
for the photo