She sits upright,
On a store shelf,
Quiet, keeping to herself.
Identical, to those alike,
Yet unique, through her eyes.
As though she can peer
Into your heart,
And see every breaking part.
And her fingers though still and closed,
Beckon you to take her home.
Her hair soft, like an angels wings,
Falls around her face in ringlets,
As light as the strings,
And ribbons which dangle from her dress,
-Yes. This doll is the specialist.
And there’s something
About her porcelain skin,
That makes it seem she’s breathing.
It can make someone tingle inside,
For there’s not emptiness, but a soul that hides
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
شِعرThis is a collection of poems I have written over the years. Some of them were inspired by music, life events, sudden thoughts, etc. Overall, any other story I write will not tell you about me as much as my poems will. They are my life story, my bio...
