Here I sit, as always.
I am waiting for life to find me.

Upon this ledge:
uneven pigtails,
cold glassy skin,
shattered chest,
for a nest of spiders
covered by frilly cloth.
It makes me feel beautiful.
The patterned plaid,
sewn by my mistress.

She made me without love,
untaught to my sisters;
handled, mishandled, carelessly.

My shell sits here like always,
waiting for love to find me.

The spiders tickle; so many.
Dust cloaks me from interested eyes.
My stare is blank,
HORROR movie scary.
I'm sorry, I don't know another stare.

Please someone see me,
deep where something should be.
I will wait atop this ledge forever.