Dear little porcelain doll
Won't you look in the mirror?
And tell me how your skin glows.
Your midnight hair
Your cerulean eyes.
God I hate your perfect curls.
Write down your thoughts
What fills that empty head?
The word 'obedience' on blank paper.
Your glass eyes stare ahead.
Better not to think instead.
They might drag me away
But you'll just sit and stare
On the mantelpiece, above the fire
In that little dress you wear.
Let Imagination Possess A Pen, And What Results Will Be Beautiful
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