She's just a porcelain doll -
a cold, unfeeling porcelain doll.
So very mindless, indecisive...
Nonchalant?

Yet sometimes at night, when the dark clutches at her throat,
this doll weeps quietly,
Tears only a porcelain doll can cry,
Willing her brittle little body to shatter.
Shh, as long as no one knows.

Still, that painted smile and those glossy eyes (do not) betray
her hollow
Nothing.
Not very interesting really, all she does is stand amidst the dust,
hope gleaming off her polished surface.
No one really notices.
No one cares.

It's ok, don't worry about it, just put her back on that shelf over there.
She's only me.

- p u r l -