Roll me out, hang me on the wall.
Display me in front of them all.
"Isn't she lovely?" " Isn't she sweet?"
"Look at that talent, isn't it neat?"
Whisper whisper, brag and boast.
Talk about your perfect ghost.
Her perfect smile and perfect eyes.
Her perfect work for that perfect prize.
Look at her perfect body in that corseted gown,
Garnished with shiny anvils-sorry-medals, that drag her down.
Heavy. Heavy, that's the word.
The weight on my shoulders, spirit deterred.
But I'll keep the mask, that's guaranteed,
I'm at your will, I will do what you need.
So don't hold back, pound your nails till my wrists and feet bleed
You think you can hurt a cutting board like me?
I've dug into my skin, words and lines
I've drawn so much of my own blood, that I forgot it was mine
Don't flatter yourself. I've seen it all before.
It's just one more crimson addition to my collection of gore.
But don't fret: they'll look up at my body, my pretty smile and corkscrew curls
And be filled with envy when they see your perfect broken poster girl.
