Paper Doll

Their baby was born a picture
She was drawn beautifully as though a replicated scripture
As her story changed
New scenes, new people, new details,
All rearranged

She was made of fine paper
Rough after rough sketch
She was crumpled and torn
Ripped to pieces
She was always recreated
Cut out
Another paper doll

Their thoughts wandered
Forming her to their perfection 
But when she saw her reflection
She saw someone else's imagination

The baby girl was made of fine paper
Draft after draft, roughly sketched
With every crumple, another wrinkled up memory
And with every rip, a stained tear to drip from her open eyes

What they wanted from her, they'd changed the flaws
Erased the imperfections,
Baby girl always up for election
She was the always smiling
Always pleasing
The one who had a lot to say
But the faint line remained painted on her face
Told she was to be seen not heard
And obeyed

She was made of fine paper
Rough draft of what they wanted her to be
Easy to crumple and tear
Easy to rip over and over again
So she finally took hold of the pencil,
Grabbing it from their hands
Designing someone they would not recognize
This had to be her favourite, a disguise
Cut out,
Another paper doll

They were pleased with the picture
Admiring their baby
As for the stains, the wrinkles, the frown
All remained in her costume

She was made of fine paper
Living in the eyes of their picture
Until she took the pencil,
Drawing the one they dreamed
Seeming the ugly from seeping through
Their baby "perfect"
So they took the scissors
Cutting her out
One more paper doll to fall.

The End

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