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marie May 30
I hate you so much.
I dont want to, but i do.
you make me feel that way
do i make you feel the same?

I think of doing terrible things
I wanna **** you in cold blood,
I wanna see you suffer from above,
like you did when i was young.

I wanna see you hurting, in pain.
and do nothing like you did,
when i was at the bottom, lost my faith,
and you were just sitting there, smiled a bit.

Im gonna end up killing you,
or killing myself,
cause i wanna finally let go,
and i will, only by death.
Mrs Timetable Jan 30
Like a broken
Empty dollhouse
Fully exposed for everyone see
Walls down
I peer inside...
And there is nothing
But sad loneliness
A giant 200 year old tree fell on a beautiful two story home I admired for years and now they are tearing it down. It was very eerie seeing inside the empty home. All the front walls were gone.  It looked helpless.
Traci Sims Oct 2020
Walking up the rickety stairs,
Patchouli and cigarette smoke
combat for supremacy
Before I even reach the door,
and I step through to see
The everyday undead scattered on the thick carpet like so many corpses blown out of Wednesday Addams' haunted dollhouse.

Maybe it wasn't wise to come.

A cd player informs me that, indeed,
Bela Lugosi's dead,
And I cautiously move into the living room.
Ruby lips and ivory faces emerge from the gloom,
Incurious glances marking my progress
As an acolyte guides me to the Queen of the festivities
Holding court in a corner of the living room.
Her waist-length silver-gilt hair and damp skin like fresh camellias gleam in the candlelight,
A studded black goblet brimming with Jack Daniels
Is handed to her,
A token of homage she eagerly welcomes
   while nodding me forward.
Whispers behind me tell her story,
Of how she's seen a thing or two in her time,
And why her flat stare and Theda Bara smile give glimpses of her bottomless occult wisdom.
As her slim fingers play with a knotted black necklace,
She considers me long before finally declaring,
--"My God, you're an old soul"--
And she pats the cushion next to her,
An invitation to drink deep and close of her dark knowledge.
A cup of something unknown is pressed into my hand
and I sip, hanging onto every arcane word she utters.
Night slowly fades into dawn
and I wake cold and stiff from a kitchen floor sleep
only to see the Queen buttoning the cuffs on her white poplin shirt.
Smoothing her tweed skirt, she steps into her pumps,
Grips her cup of coffee,
And with a cheery wave, leaves for work.
Happy Hallowe'en, everyone!
Ashley Kaye Jun 2019
a hand
a hello
an embrace
What flesh do you hold
Who does it belong

i feel as a doll
in its playhouse
Trudging between plastic
bright, wallpaper rooms
Daises and lavish paisley

Will I ever trust the very heart
on my sleeve
let alone place it
in your hands
Meaning is like words
It is claimed, they are said
Truth remains elusive
from reality
June 2019
Anne J May 2019
My dollhouse opens
For all who seek lies and
Delusions stead truth
Another one...Got a whole lot more coming in these weeks.
julianna May 2019
My family has a curse
It’s the Dollhouse Dilema
The problem is you see,
That people think we’re perfect.

We’re plastic to the outside world
And perfectionist at our core.
We’re always in control, that is,
Until something goes wrong.

Do you see the problem here?
The problem is with logic.
Plastic melts with heat and pressure,
But we just smile harder.

I don’t know why we’re like that
And I’m not sure we’ll recover but
Beware the perfect people, for
They have the biggest problems.
RaeAnn Mar 2019
You were an architect
Who built sturdy walls around me,
And hung up perfect pictures...
Ones I mistook for truth.

Had I been less content,
In this dollhouse you created,
I would have seen the one next door...
The one you built for her.
Vale Luna Oct 2018
Master’s toy
Wants to be played with
Oh, please, come play with me
I am yours
And only yours
I think that you’d agree

Pick me up
By my puppet strings
And watch me dance around your bed
Pick me up
And amuse yourself
I want a place inside your head

Master! Master!
Come visit me
Inside my little dollhouse
I simply long
To be your plaything
You’re the cat, I’ll be the mouse

Master! Master!
I get lonely
When I’m not held within your clutch
As your doll
All I have
Is constant longing for your touch

There’s one purpose
I am trained for
And that’s for you to enjoy
Forever conditioned
Forever enslaved
To be Master’s little toy.
Celestite Jul 2018
this noise is too loud for these porcelain ears of mine
they scatter with cracks as the noise grows near
this abuse is too rough for this porcelain skin of mine
each hit I take scuffs the baby pink paint on my cheeks
this sadness is too sad for this porcelain heart of mine
the melancholy that has been brewing inside of you for so long is now forced into my fragile soul
there seems to be no more love in this home;
I guess thats why they call it a dollhouse
Danielle Apr 2018
Half remembered clichés dance along the pier.
The divide between,
Sweet salty land and unending depths.
My talking dolphins sing a tune,
Unsettling and threatening.
Feed scraps from the dinner table
by my curly haired gambler.
I only see him at that old dollhouse,
Cracked and weathered by the Sea.
It insists on knocking on our red door
and staying for supper.
So it can beat us at throwing pennies in a cup
Had a dream and it made me really happy so I wrote a poem about it. It was a pretty weird dream truth be told.
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