I am quite clunky in my presentation
For my plastic body parts don\'t make me human,
It is the emotion that moves me;
Perfection is misunderstood
For it is not perfection at all,
It is the intricate pieces
That weave together authenticity
For I am a doll, a doll of mischief
My body is everything, everything that I feel
My mouth is so soft, I can speak words
My neck is quite long, yet I feel elegant
Yet my insecurities are just pure fabrication,
Or are they too real for me to recognize?
Yet in my 40s
I wonder if my skin will sag,
Or is the death of illusion reappearing?
For I am a doll, and I am fabulous
My plastic body parts aren\'t real--
They are as skinny as a brown paper bag
In the sun;
For I melt all the time in the sun
Just keep me in cool temperature
My eyes are dismounted, I can\'t see the sun
I am blind in my own ambition;
For I am a doll, and I am misunderstood
For do I have problems in my own skin?
I question the dailies of my despair
For age is everything, it is the perfect praise
It soothes the soul
Knowing that I am a tainted flower,
For a tainted flower is praise;
My age, my age; I praise my age
And all of its authenticity
The violins play as I walk on the stage
For I am a doll, and my plastic speaks
For where is the child within?