Always inside is the voice of the

china doll.

Just beyond her porcelain lips.

Chipping away at the sturdy walls.

Girls like her weren't supposed to have

voices of their own.

She is a puppet.

A pretty, porcelain, puppet with long gleaming

strings.

Long, so that the puppet master may control her

from afar.

Gleaming and sleek so they may never tangle,

So puppet master may never lose control.

The voice beyond her porcelain core is one

of the pain which she endures.

But porcelain lips cannot be opened.

Porcelain is cold.

Cold and lifeless, but pretty.

Pretty lips only open to say the right things,

Puppet lips only open to say what master wants.

A script of lies:

I love you.

A hidden voice:

Let me go.