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Porcelain Dolls

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A porcelain doll wanders through the mist,
Phones ringing, people clicking in some strange
Tongue foreign to the quiet, perfectly shaped
Ears of the cold, marble-smooth beauty up
For the world to see.

A toy must be played with, and scores lust for
The tingle of touch, the sweet song of sweat
Flying from an arched back lit from hollow
Fire burning bright, bright, bright, a shadow of
Emotion below


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