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Ashley Kaye Jun 2019
a hand
a hello
an embrace
What flesh do you hold
Who does it belong
to

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

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
Plunk...plunk...plunk
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.
Noelle M Eithun May 2016
You've put me in your doll house.
Plastic furniture
cardboard walls
Surround me. Smother me.

There are other dolls here, too.
waiting.
like me.
To be picked.

I see your hand come towards me
Finally. You pick me.

Your rough fingers curl around my waist
lifting me to what seems like an endless sky

My hair bouncing in the wind
my eyes looking at you
always looking at you.

We do what we always do.
Sit out by the water
you making jokes, me singing songs.
You caress my cheek
You kiss me.

You never kiss me..
Maybe this means something.
Maybe I wont have to go back

I see him stand
oh no
he folds up the blanket we've been laying on
please don't make me go back
I feel his rough fingers curl around my waist
let me stay

I couldn't look at him
the whole way back.
What did I do?
Was I a bad kisser?
Did he regret picking me this time?

He places me back into the doll house.
I look into his eyes, pleading, begging
for him to give me answers.

Instead
He curls his rough fingers around the waist
of the doll next to me.
Lifts her up, and kisses her cheek.

He's never done that with me.

I watch as they both disappear into the distance.

Every time I see him leave with a different doll,
I can feel my skin harden
my skin becoming shinier

He's transforming me into something I'm not
Plastic.

Maybe thats what he wants. Plastic dolls.
Dolls waiting for his attention.
Dolls at his disposal.

I don't want that.
I want to be free.

But, I want him to love me.

All I can do now, is wait.
Wait for him to pick me again.
To play with me again.
That one guy you want so badly but you know he's playing you. He even does it right infront of you. Flirting with other people. But you cant help but hope he will eventually choose you. Want you.
Jade Louise Apr 2015
She thought she was broken
So she began to search
She looked through lonely drawers for thumbtacks
Through soft cardboard boxes
For superglue
On worn wooden desks
For staplers and tape

She looked for
Fastening devices
Fixing tools
To piece herself together

She felt her heart was fraying
And that her buttons were pulling at their thread

She wanted to fasten
One sleepless night
To a restful one

One bad dream
To a good one

One rush of tears
To clear eyes

One cluster of confusing thoughts
To a simple idea

But fastening is for dolls
Dolls need fixing, adjusting

People
Don't

We come undone
Only to find ourselves
More strongly
Stitched back together*

~JLH
always anxious Jul 2015
You don't hear me when i say, mom, please wake up, dad's with a ****, and your son is smoking cannabis.

No one ever listens this wallpaper glistens don't let them see what goes down in the kitchen.

Places places get in your places theow on your dress and pur on your dollfaces

everyone thinks that we're perfect please don't let them look through the curtains.

Picture, picture smile for the picture
Pose with your brother won't you be a good sister.

everyone thinks that we're perfect please don't let them look through the curtains
Melanie martinez-dollhouse
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