She painted my lips black,
and brushed my auburn hair back.
She said I was far too pretty,
to bare anything bold like that.

She tied my hair with ribbon,
and brushed glitter along my cheeks.
She said ladies aren't as pretty if
they forget to gloss their faces.

Later on she covered my eyes,
and pushed my esteem into her resonable size.
She said that we can't be so different,
she wouldn't like it like that.

She dolled me up in silver,
and made me porcelain,
then she glossed my lashes,
and corseted my waist.

When she placed me on my shelf,
I took a look around.
Beside me, on my left and right,
were two girls also bound.

Her lips were black like Ravens,
and her hair was pulled back slick.
The other was shined with glitter,
with her waist all bound and tight.

It occurred to me rather quickly,
why we're all upon this shelf.
She collects us and assimilates,
we're all her little dolls.
With such a life, you'll see,
Society always has her calls.