I smile but I don’t know why,
I thought of a doll, for I’m nothing more,
Oh how I’d longed to weep and cry, upon a rife and spoiled white floor…
Why can’t you see who you really are?
Even I know my true face,
I’m just a doll wanting to know
the true price of this happiness.
I’ve waited up there upon that shelf.
Just who was it that wanted to shout?
You look at me now
but think of yourself
and the pain that flooded out.
If I am a doll
Then I’m unable to feel, No soul in my body, my heart isn’t real.
My soul was a jewel,
Fake curls on my head, the life in my veins,
No tears can be bled.
My pleas are unheard, the mirror my foe,
It smiles at me kindly; it knows all my woe…
My reflection and I, just which one is real,
An image is fake and a reflection can’t feel.
Yet who do you see, this image or me?
Who am I right now?
just who could you see?
But here is your smile, my happiness raced…
I see now I know that you’re my true face…
© Copyright 2016 Nocturnal Writer. All rights reserved.
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