Valley of the Porcelain Dolls

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Mortwenna Bathory

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In the dollhouse of wilted roses
Collecting filth from all the mold
Ivy and weeds grew across the brick
A man lies down, he's growing old

T.v. remote, changing station after station
I watch him with my glass eyes
Volume increases louder by the minute
And why am i not surprised?

Never born to be a barbie
I was made from clay and paper like string
I can never be as plastic as her
I thought nothing could ever replace me

He used to play with me
I was his favorite doll
But he put me on a shelf
And never looked at me at all

So i collected dust
All that was left was the snuff
Of a dying old man who couldn't love
His favorite doll

I wish that you would play with me

(In the valley of all the dolls
I knew i wouldn't get that far
You never noticed the rims on the ends of my dress
Or played with me at all...)

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