Dolls

Perfection is nothing.

Porcelain, perfection
Made for love and affection
Perfect hair and beautiful skin
They all look like such a win
There is one doll who sits on the shelf
Quietly, gazing off by herself
In hopes she will find someone to take her
Someone who won’t break her
There she waits all in misery
Looking at the happy ones, of what she used to be.
Perfect makeup, perfect composition
At one point she was in the first position
But now because she’s been changed to all black
She’s carelessly shoved in the back
Unloved, unwanted
Her thoughts sometimes leave her haunted
The doll nobody wanted.
And she sits and prays behind her plastic prison cell
That maybe one day she’ll be melted and relieved of this hell
But hell’s torture knows no boundaries or end
She will wait for eternity with no hope around the bend
Just another doll to be left and haunted.
The one who was unwanted.