top of page

In The Dollhouse

Pretty little thing  

You live in a dollhouse  

With people  

Made from the same plastic 

As your high heeled shoes  

Perfect your golden ringlets  

Comb out your eyelashes 

Shine up your baby blue eyes 

A porcelain doll  

Made of fine china  

Just wanting to be loved 

To be cared for  

In a way that a fragile doll should be  

You’ve been dropped one too many times 

Thin cracks 

Hidden to the naked eye 



Yet people cannot fathom 

How such a thing could happen  

To such a pretty little doll  

In such a pretty little house  

With such a pretty little smile 

Painted pale pink across her lips.


bottom of page