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Rated: E · Poetry · Arts · #2123436
A look through glassy eyes...
The glassy eyes stare right through me
As I look in the mirror
My face is pale and fragile
It can be broken by a single tear
The dress I wear is made of lace
They all say I am only a pretty face
But I know I have so much more inside

They try to tell me I am wrong
To climb the trees outside
And sing songs
They lace me with strings
And pull me along
And Even though I know I am strong
I can't help but cry

The puppeteer moves his hands
And I weakly move along
My heart is sinking in my chest
I am tired
And I wish that I could at least rest

One day as I dance on the stage
I realize that the lights were dim
How I felt inside
And in that moment I realized
I didn't want that anymore
I wanted freedom
I wanted to go further than the floor

I tugged on my strings and I resisted
But yet the fight still persisted
And soon I tumbled to the ground
The strings had snapped
My face was cracked
I finally felt free

And as the last fragile piece of porcelain
fell from my face
I knew who I was meant to be

The strings were gone
The stage too
And I stood on my own
And I stood tall
Because I am not a toy
I can show them all
That I am not a puppet
And I am not a doll
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