A porcelain doll upon your shelf
A distorted image of myself
Held up on a Pedi stool high above
Too fragile and precious for you to hug
A rag doll lies upon the floor
Where you dropped her by the door
Button eyes, covered in grunge
Torn apart from being loved
To compare us both one a mess one neat
One sprawled on the floor, one proud on her feet
Though I may be precious, the best condition of all
I’d give the world for the love that you gave the rag doll.
