she sits by the window made of porcelin thinking of her tragic tale
her broken hands and broken feet and her humongous gown of satin sheets
her heart ached to be cared for to be brushed off her feet and given to the hands of someone whod love her and give her lots of treats
she sits by the window made of porcleinn she waits ands waits hoping not to break
her heart in her hands and her glassy stare staring straight ahead she was among many now she is not dust collects on her dress and frame she thinks of place of where she wasd and hoping of things to go she wishes to brushed off her feet and gently carried home
so instead she imagines and pretendsas the she is wearing wear thin and she slowly becomes dim