𝑽𝒂𝒍.
The girl with the real dollface. Behind everything she's been hiding
Her beauty.
There I said it.
But for her final act
She'll be standing and burning aflame
Feet planted in the earth
Trusting.
* . • ° . 🕊 *. ° •:*
These painted faces, haven’t seen many places. A dusty shelf they call their home. A fake self is all they have known
They dress up and make up and in the end.. in the morning they wake up. All alone on their shelves. All by their lonesome selves.
These painted faces. Will tell you what “good” taste is. Their smiles are painted on. Their happiness is long gone
But they know how to get what they want. They know how, where and what to flaunt.
These painted faces. Are all dressed up in laces. They play with their food. Always in the mood. To play with their hair. And play with the fair lass'. These painted faces... Have many shallow graces. Have one shape and one size. Have seraphic heavenly in their eyes. And have hearts full of lies, But painted faces are lonely. Because in the end they only, ever come home. To shallow, hollow selves. And shallow, hollow lies. To dusty, empty shelves. And dusty, empty lives
. . .
She was beautiful, as porcelain splashes from the tender – light skin. People & castes of colonized established general mortals has seek her beauty and has referred her as a 'dollface'
Yet, so pretty and soft.
