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.
Copyright © Kaitlyn Krenik | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment