My painted smile tells of no bright lies.
I gather the dust as aspiring friends,
The strings are pulled; on my limbs there are ties
My rags are torn and in need of a mend.
Breathing life and tugging on the thin rope,
My cold wooden body will never fall.
For durations of time I feel some hope.
Proudly sings the dance of the doubtful doll.
I go limp as you lay me back to rest,
My tears molten my own fragile being.
This tarnished toy, this show, for which you jest,
Has more then a sad face, she has meaning.
Oh Lord! Why are we so blinded by sight?
Give this poor tarnished doll her strength to fight.
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