my dolly
By donnamarie
there's a doll in my room. she resembles me in my youth. she is wearing a dress, though. she is what i could never bring myself to be. she always keeps her legs crossed, with an ambiguous smile sewn onto her lips. why, i don't believe she ever got dirty! i don't think she ever closed her eyes. she never left the pedastal. her feet never met the ground. the ringlets flow from her ivory scalp. i think you could eat off of her shoes. her dress is simply pressed. her complexion is pretty pink and without my mundane flaws. she has teeth measured with a ruler and a square just so no one is offended, but is motivated to hate herself. i have a doll in my room. she does not resemble anything i have ever been. she is what i could never coerse myself into being.oh, the feminism will never retreat from my soul. i recommend seeing the "vagina monologues" to anyone and everyone! Written March 11th, 2002 © on Mar 11 2002 04:57 AM PST 0 • 10
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"there's a doll in my room...."