Pale skin of porcelain
Lips of bright red
Perfect blond curls
Not a hair out of place
Being just a doll
I sit on my chair
Chin resting on my chest
Arms hanging limp at my sides
I have no control of movement
Being just a doll
People comment on my delicate features
On my dress made of lace and frills
They say that I'm adorable
As my empty glass eyes stare out in front
Being just a doll
A frozen smile
A porcelain face
Perfect curls
Not a hair out of place
Pretty clothes made of lace and frills
But none of it matters
Being just a doll
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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