N/A

Just a poem that I wrote under pressure to be perfect...

A pretty blue eyed doll

In a pretty blue silk dress

Perfectly poised

And oozing fake joy

Alone on a shelf

She sits by herself

Dust gathers on her pretty blonde curls

She looks over the edge

The shelf is so high

"I'm going to do it!

It'll be a nice way to die..."

With a crash she is gone

Not even her memory lives on

In the corner of a closet

Alone... she sits by herself