I have been writing since I was 13 off and on, lost my pencil for many years. Still trying to find my voice.
Doll so pretty sitting there, lifeless as cold air.
On a shelf she looks about, dark eyes stare onto clouds.
Rosy cheeks, and rosy lips, dark hair flips onto her hips.
Wondering what these humans are.
Feelings, emotions, intelligence.
Muse herself into a sleep,
Dreams and allows herself to think.
When she awakes, she now knows...
she's not alive, she's just a doll.
R. Holmes on January 27, 2019:
This is awesome