Like Sally I sense tragedy’s at hand
For this heart can only sew so much
Until all string is used to the last strand
Hanging dolls staring at my lonesome self
I wish I was more than what they see
If only they’d welcome me on their shelf
My porcelain skin would win over all
Inanimate beings look alive at my face
As I let my angriest plastic tear fall
I can’t be SxTxIxTxCxHxExD this time. . .
I can’t be displayed. . .
I can’t remove the grime
I’ve become the doll
And we all sense the worst
A happy ending for them all
And when they finally welcome me to their shelf
It is empty and caked with dust
Leaving me staring. . . at MxYxSxExLxF
Like Sally I sensed tragedy at hand
But unlike her, that’s how I stay
I stay. I stay. I stay.
SxTxOxP. . .
IxT IxS SxTxAxRxIxNxG AxGxAxIxN. . .
SxHxE WxOxNxT LxExT MxE SxLxExExP
SxHxE HxAxTxExS MxE. . .
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal