Porcelain Doll
On the shelf sits the porcelain doll.
Her eyes so realistic. I hate the way she stares.
“Stop doing that!” I painfully call.
But, still, I meet with her glares.
When I fall asleep, she’s in my dream
In a forest with air made of mist
I meet her eyes and start to scream.
I wake up and it seems that I’ve pissed.
She is a nightmare with eyes
Oh how I hate that porcelain devil
And her hellish sweet disguise.
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