My doll's world

Time seems like such a myth
However staring, uncomfortably at a moving object
a clock, in this instance
Gives substantial proof
Of time's existence.

It stares back without hollow eyes
And within such a frame of moments,
appears to have never moved.
It buries the dreams that haunt our sleep
And disguises the bruised child, abused.

Time for me is such a planned pattern
Within the hour of awakening,
I cringe away such dreams
I become like a doll
Unraveled at the seams.

See at night, I cry restlessly for worry
For memoirs erasing, regrets and my empathies
And as I worry another seam is undone
For my smile had died as quickly
As the melting of the sun.

But as the day evolves,
Faces, smiles and memories
Stitch what I had unraveled
Through words of supporting nothings
And soft hands held.

As this cycle continues,
The time tells a story of my life
Similar to yours, I do expect
We are all dolls in a timed world,
And this is a dolls concept.