Her eyes linger on the emptiness of time,
Scratched by age and
Tormented by loneliness.
Skin pale, dead, like that of a model’s
After beauty’s touch rottens
Like rust over steel.
Hair wired,
Forgotten and left
To tend to itself.
Stranded, in a time where
She was once loved,
My ragdoll grins
With an air of desperation
And solitude.

No uglier creature than she,
She resembles an aged rose
With petals fallen
And left with nothing
But her thorns.

My rag doll does not compare to any
Of my other porcelain beauties
With lush hair and frilly dresses.
My rag doll is ugly,
Her features broken by the shortage of love she hungered for.

“Why aren’t you beautiful?”
“Why aren’t you beautiful?”

I scream over and over
Like a rhythmic chant,
Engraving it into her brain,
Her heart,
Her bones,
And every other worthless part of her.

I repeat, over and over,
Vainly hoping that grin with disappear
And her dead eyes will flood like a
Broken dam.

Over and over,
I scream, shout, stomp.
Yelling,
Over and over.

Her appearances pain me,
Make my eyes cringe,
My eyebrows faint,
And my tongue electric with
Venom ready to spit out.

“Why aren’t you beautiful?”
“Why aren’t you beautiful?”

My face turns lemon dipped
As I force words at her,
Each word slowly ripping at her rough skin,
Opening wounds,
Leaving scars and bruises.
With every sentence
I engulf more of her,
Leaving nothing but self-loathing.

“Why aren’t you beautiful?”
“Why aren’t you beautiful?”

Left behind in my
Long lost memory,
I am buried behind
Desperation
Insanity and
Anger.
Always anger.

“Why aren’t you beautiful?”
“Why aren’t you beautiful?”

I leave her behind,
Her grin as strong as before,
Not fading,
No matter my efforts.

She lives rent free in my mind
Her grin slicing into every thought I have.
I think of her,
Alone in her corner,
Different,
Strange,
Ugly.

But once I leave my asylum
My eyes fall dark as well
As my face folds
Into a grin almost too familiar to me
As I take the place of my ragdoll
And get asked the same question as she.

“Why aren’t you beautiful?”