She was real, maybe that's why I clung onto
her.
She was glass in a sea of plastic,
But stronger.
She had heard it all already,
Any insult you could throw she would catch
then drop.
I envied that.
Maybe that's why I broke her.

it sat on a shelf , gaining dust
She never moved
Not knowing who to trust
All the other kids played with her a lot
They broke down her porcelain skin
Leaving cracks in her
But what was she to do? She was merely a doll
A pretty thing
To look at
To toy with
It didn’t matter if she broke
Because she easy to replace
So the kids played with her
Until a once porcelain beauty
Was a shattered broken
Nothing
Her eyes once glistening
Like raindrops on the leaves
Now dead and dull

Sitting on a shelf , staring at a wall
Mind empty
Nothing else
Just lost in herself

There are so many beautiful things I can say about you
But at the moment none of that would sound all that true
Your **** is a must
Your tongue game is Strong
Trust
It’s your verbal reassurance
That has no endurance
I ******* love you daddy
In the lyrical game you’re a baddy
Yet you can’t seem to say one meaningful when it’s needed
A flower won’t flourish without water
But first it must be seeded

What am I here for
I thought I was your partner
But lately I feel like a chore
Feels like I don’t belong
What happened to the love we had
That was so strong
Is it the way I smell
Or did I do something wrong?

Shes's the pretties carrier of a soul,
A Damsel fallen through a wonder hole;
She bounces in joy all around the place,
A moment she's here, and another she's everywhere.

Her face round like the softest stress ball,
Eyes with a diamond's shine
and
Hair fallen down the shoulder like a waterfall.

Ohh My!! I tell you
She's like a divine doll
She's as cheerful as a bird in dawn
She's got flair of grass in a fine uncut lawn.

He never touched her, never spoke to her or even said a Hii
Just kept getting mesmerized from the Corner of an Eye !!!

she is a doll of supple clay.
              with ample cheeks,
opened fresh like roses from their  dewy  buds,
f r e c k l e d  with the soil that fed them.
her eyes,
dormant
behind the   glossy sheen.
they are            blue pools      of
           motionless gin.
  parted slightly,
her lips are
full & ripe
with the   silence   that her beauty awards.
for all,
a doll cannot speak
   until the words are forced in her mouth.
she cannot live,
yet she is the                           centre                            of their attention.
the breaths her lungs release are cold kisses.
her body is an
                      empty vessel,
coated in lust and desire,
                                                                                                         after all,
that's what she was made for.
created to be played with.
a toy in high demand.
               a doll of supple clay.

Translucent paint flakes off of

her porcelain skin that after

fifty years remains smooth.



Thin pink lips that don't curl

upwards, weighed down by plump

rosy cheeks, rest soft on the eye.



Every wafting invisible strand of

straw-blonde hair sewn into her scalp

by hand is worth saving.



Old light illuminates her

transcendent eyes, scattering

stars across the peeling walls.



Her gown, finer than anything worn

by real little girls, hemmed and

re-hemmed, moth-eaten and gossamer,



Lacy and dainty and faded on the left

side, the side that's been facing

the window for decades



Floats with the draft of the night

And soaks up the sun, the sun's

tangible rays of dust.



Oh, sweet lovely, I see

you in all of your splendor,

the grime doesn't damper



Your glowing facade.

The cobwebs

keep you warm at night.

A dull doll faced mug
Glinted by unknown light
Dried a drip of ancient drink
Dripped down quite

Hands clasped tight around
A mug of occult confession
Eyes teared as such
A sorrowful expression

Dappled light through glass
Chair scrapped along floor
Spotted plastic tablecloth
Shut tight wooden door

Homemade woollen tea cosy
Lumps of bricked sugar
Kettle whistling dolefully
Clicking stained cooker

Futile arms waving
Closed taught eyes
Sigh of calming thoughts
"Please, no more lies"

Staring at the girl who used to be innocent and pure,
Now just a mannequin of hated nothingness.
Dressed in the color red, a representation of love,
Now representing only that of which she lost.
The tears running down a perfect porcelain face,
Smudged makeup smeared upon its appearance.

I am beginning to realize I was nothing more than a burden, a bother, a mirror reflection.
Mocking me as my world comes crashing down,
My heart now unknown and forgotten.
The perfect picture you painted me to be was not even me at all.
Dolling me up, and puppetting me around, to follow your every will and whim.
You pressed me into this mold of a person, you taught me who I should and shouldn’t be.
So now that you’re gone, which me, is me...?

Like a porcelain doll,
She shatters,
Her soul crumbles into tiny specks,
Her being fades into nothingness,
And she no longer exists.