Plastic Limitations

Dolls lined up in neat rows of ten,
each equally afraid of lies, pain and disappointment
Drawn with aching smiles and soulless eyes:
cages are imprinted with redundant words to spark interest

A new era of egocentrically selfless dolls pollute the aisle
while the rest are left to decay into the dust they rose from
And as damaged beauty is glorified,
hearts are lost to the physical eye:

Money, magnified, manic
Absent, apathetic, abandoned
Grated, generic, glorified
Empty, effortless, edited
Damaged:
the end of each relationship is the beginning of every insecurity…
Damaged.

The Pseudo Doctor

As tears run down her face,
She holds back a smile because there is a certain beauty in remembering the fragility of your humanity.
The emptiness of pain begging for sharp steel to touch the smoothness of her skin as she becomes an addict to surgery.
And in that moment, there is only her and darkness…

I only depend on ME.

I feel as though I have lost myself:
a shell living on automatic.
As I walk through everyday life,
I am confined by a mere glass:
experiencing but not feeling.
My prison becomes smaller and smaller,
but as I suffocate I ask for no help.
I depend on me.
Me.
M.
E.
The bars burn lines on my skin.
M.
E.
The oxygen thickens until I can’t breathe.
M.
E.
My vision blurs.
M.
E.
I gracefully fall into darkness…
Me.
Me.
ME!
I only depend on me.
Me.
Myself.
I.