Snip, snip, snip,
the scissors slice right through the page.
A pack of paper dolls created,
to now take centre-stage.
One of those dolls are different,
and that doll is me.
I have so many faults and flaws,
my life wasn’t meant to be.
So many bumps and scars,
and a torn-up outline.
I’m covered up with nice bright colours,
to appear like all is fine.
Then we each receive a smile,
so glowing, fresh, and new.
But upon my face she paints a frown,
I’m not like the rest of you.
My sad looks soon stand out,
and they hate my imperfections.
So she takes out a pair of scissors,
to make a few corrections.
My weightless, worthless body,
floats gently to the floor.
As the other paper dolls,
are hung up for all to adore.