You were like a doll,
I dressed you up so sweetly
I painted on your smile, each day
carried you with me closely
I set you up on a shelf,
I let you down for admirers
but you weren't happy with this life,
outside, was what you desired
and so your dress was muddy,
your curls were all mange and matted
your shoes had holes, your skin dirty,
but the shelf was of the past now
my little doll, I kept you safe,
from a world from which you wanted
for you were a child, not of porcelain
and coddling you was a trap
so tell me now, that I let you into this world,
what is it that you sought out?
was it life, imagination, a craving of wonder?
or to shed such fragile skin and grow?
© Danielle Willard, 2018. All rights reserved.