You are a porcelain doll sitting upon your shelf Alone for the ages with your perfect blonde hair and empty blue eyes I see what the others cannot Your skin is made of bone, Your hair plucked from the scalp of a martyr, Your lips painted with blood You see what the others cannot, The pain of the world from your unbiased view You know that we are fools And you long to reach out, but you cannot From your shelf up so high The only thing you’ve ever known to be your own was your own maker You were made from all the forlorn things
The lovelorn do not impress you And you know to be forgotten is a choice The confused are not as confused as they appear to be Everyone knows how they are feeling, They just choose to live as bigots Ignorant to their blessings You are intrigued with only the things you do not understand and never will For you cannot ever leave your shelf Forever to decay.