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Paper Doll

Diving in the world of panic,
my flesh and muse are faulty still.
My eyes are torn between romantic,
roman statues, morals killed.

I have no number, sky or sea,
only others speak through me.
They’re in my fingers, in the ink,
my pens can’t win and I can’t think.

I’m stripped of bones to make their rooms,
body fluorescent, like the moon.
And I hear singing when I sleep.
I, nocturnal, shout defeat.

Although they hide inside my sight,
they come to play on quiet nights,
still no one sees, but I digress.
Sometimes I think it’s for the best.

People see a paper person.
Torn with feathers, eyes undone.
They cannot hear or see the world
that’s in these bones, inside this girl.

 

 

 

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16 Comments

  1. I love the theme of fragility in this piece, the vulnerable titan expressing angst through soothing wordplay. but it’s the metaphor that blows me away the most: “I have no number, sky or sea, only others speak through me.” Breathtaking 🙂 Thank you for sharing this amazing piece of work.

    • I love hearing how others interpret my writings. Thank you so much! 🙂

  2. wow, you write so well.. I’d name all that I love in this poem but it would be a looong list… well done, truly fantastic piece! 🙂

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