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I try to hold on to my doll. She is so fragile still. I brushed her hair, can't let her fall.   I'm deep in dreams, then hear the call Of Mom, "The food will chill!" I try to bring along my doll.
The pain and the deception that I felt when I saw you I could describe it but no one would believe it to be true Though it wasn’t the scene in front of me
Looking in the mirror  at all my minor scars my mind begun to wonder back to my hellish vampiric  czar.   His words still rung in my ears
This is NOT me! This is NOT who I am! This is NOT who I want to be!  
You didn't love me Because you didn't know how to love You only knew how to play So indeed you played, With my heart. My feelings. My time. My life. My mind.  
She twirled and danced with grace and muse Her strings did not stop it All came to see the show she gave But then, the floor she hit  
The doll of an urban legend, born on 5th avenue and made in Macy’s Herald Square, threw away her metro card.
I see these plastic people, Barbie dolls. With their dream houses and expensive cars. And their plastic friends, at their plastic malls. Getting “white-girl wasted” at plastic bars.
In a dark room, There are trembling lips, Her eyes are crystal, Her lips still perfectly molded. The smile won't seem to leave.   No matter where she sits, No matter how much she crumbles,
This poem deviates slightly from the suggested topic explaining, instead, the psychological state of adolescents and women in this day and age who aspire to a level of perfection that doesn't exist and how the failed attempt to do so leads to
Mommy always said
Its so hot, Its so very hot
I'm a Marionette,Your lifeless little toy,Anyone can play with me,Be they girl or boy.The wires tied around my arms,You control them as you wishYou can break my heart and cause me harm
Blonde hair, blue eyes, freckles,5’6”  and 150 pounds,My appearance won’t dictate my success. 1970 SAT, 29 ACT score,4.6 GPA, and 63rd in my class of 500.My academics won’t dictate my success.
Your beautiful just the way you are There us no need to wear makeup Don't fake it up Just the way you are You shook the world up Because your are beautiful just the way you are
The world is a mistress of beautiful things But the harsh reality is It also holds ugly things And we have ugly people posing as beautiful people And they press the buttons Leaving the rest of us in poverty
Her eyes are blue Her eyes are bright Her lips are flawless too And her hair is just right   Her nails are long and thin Her nose is a perfect width Her skin is considered perfection
Who the fuck am I, you asked.
No filter and no makeup, I feel naked It's hard to admit, I'd rather fake it, Pretend like I'm okay, With the small acne scars on my face, The way all my hairs don’t naturally fall into place,
Who am I beyond the mask?Behind the facade is a woman.Why I am no different than you.
Who is me beyond what they see Doing what I can for the perfect selfie Lip gloss on, hair curled slightly Making sure my imperfections is unsightly Who is to say who is me Who is me beyond what they see
Never did I think the world would see me Behind the flowing stems of roses
I never grew up in poverty or tragedy
I am a dork, I am silly, I am beautiful without makeup.   I have a heart of gold, I am smart, I am a hardworker.   Without a filter, I am all these things, And I love it.
When the clouds clear and the curtains are drawn, you get to witness the person that is truely beyond. No glitz, no glamor, nor artificiality present what you see is honestly-just me.  
Smooth skin, Thin waist, This is who I want to be. Crop the image, Add a filter, And there it is; the new me.   See the smile? See the hapiness?
V1: Always kept me on the shelf what a never-ending hell can I cope with all the stress? Everyday I’m so depressed   V2:
You see the Iron Empress Who standing tall, stoic, regal. She hides the Carefree Clown Who could entertain for hours. She hides the Lovesick Maid Blinded by love unrequited.
I searched for love where it truly did not exist. I searched,  And I searched, and I searched, And left the same way I came, Empty handed.  
Small Doll chips away, Small Doll likes the fray, Small Doll knows nothing, But the sad decay,
When I was younger, my mother’s name for me was Doll. Her hair was golden thread, her eyes were glass. She would dress me and undress me, and hold my pink hands and sing, “How perfect you are,
Pull my hair back and lay me back. 
As the years have passed
Like a marionette, She sits a puppet with hanging strings Tangled in masters hands. Her once darling dress, Now just tattered remnants of what once was. Her face so delicately designed
The implications of your strength confuse My emotions and leave me perplexéd; Do I find safety in your able arms, Or do I fear the strength sup’rior to mine? The way you take control is my excuse
Its blinking button eyes Lashes Plucked Clean conscience lies Demons of possess Its ragged red dress Hides in the shadows; tireless Awakened by the silver moon Loom through loom
Your eyes are small and round They thin when you smile See—liquid brown is their color, hated by most loved by me. • Loving you is-
A single porcelain doll with the gentle smile And a face of pure white - innocent and simple; Light shadow to the eyes and a faint blush, Relaxed with hands resting on her lap.
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