Aras Acolipeps

May 9, 2007 - Sanibel Island
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Doll of Lace

When the day ends,
and the night falls.
When it’s just me,
laying still as a doll.

When the tears come,
and stream down my face.
I am made of porcelain,
and dressed in lace.

The void grows,
and burns and aches.
But she always says,
“it’s for your own sake.”

I lose sense of myself,
as the time passes by.
“We love you,” they say,
but I know it’s a lie.

I wait and I wait,
for my “better place.”
But it doesn’t arrive,
I continue to chase.

I view myself through smudges,
through crooked lips and cracked glass.
I see myself in my drawings,
as I wonder, “will this ever pass?”

I’m waiting patiently,
for something or someone.
I do not yet know,
but I still wait under the sun.

I see myself in a camera lens,
through fog in a distorted way.
The camera clicks at me again,
and I wonder, how many more today?

They rip, they tear,
I scream, I cry.
They love me so,
they always lie.

The paints begin to bruise my skin,
I see the red and I see the blue.
When I look up and search for it,
I only ever see me and you.

It fills my heart, my soul and mind,
I want to die again today.
It’s all I am and all I see,
Please let me just have my way.

I am bound by flesh and blood,
by iron words and liquid chains.
I tell myself I am doing fine,
but I can’t bear the pain.
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