Written when I was around 14 years old.
She sits with an idle brain,
That comforts her in troubled times,
And tells her to smile happily,
Such a harmless little lie.
Harmless to a careless world,
That turns without a thought,
Rids its mind of burden,
And hates a heavy heart.
She turns to every corner,
With a silent desperate plea,
Hoping for a pair of open arms,
In which she can finally weep.
Instead she finds manequins,
With blinkless empty eyes,
Hollow and emotionless,
Arms dangling by their sides.
She goes mad in her little doll house,
Where not a thing is felt,
And behind every printed smile,
Is an emotion being held.
