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The Doll
My detachedness has
Burrowed into her
Mind,
It seems,
And put a crack
In her smooth,
Porcelain forehead,
Still unfit
To break her.
My searing isolation has
Seeped into her
Thoughts,
It appears,
Dulled her emotion
From the inside
And made her eyes
Glassy
They do not see me.
Yet my purposeful separation
Cannot break her if
She refuses to be
Torn
Apart,
Still so perfect
Still so bright with
Painted rosy cheeks
I can only hate.
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This article has 2 comments.
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This poem is very deep, which I liked! :) Even though the phrases were short, the meaning was definitely complete.
Great work! ;)