I Am A Doll

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?