You've stared down this
mountain before, a porcelain
doll behind glass. An old doll
now with more incentive
to jump: your simple parts
rusted together, arms and
tiny fingers, legs with fragile
lace socks, black plastic shoes
and creepy holes for your
child-like white blue eyes
crusted with dust.
It's hard to feel real when
everything you're made of
is factory.
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