a broken doll

Is that a swirling purple fountain?

or is it a raging blue sea?

maybe its just a mirage

In this desert that I'm forced to call my life,

Its hard to focus on the vision

Sometimes its just a tiny voice,

On the good days its an explosion of a million voices,

Loud enough to drown the world

Quiet enough to be heard only by me

Yet strong enough to be felt in my euphoric state

If the eyes are the windows to the soul

Why then can they not see

That I'm in shackles and chains,

In rags , forced to fake my smile

Are they just not bothered by pain?

Have i become so good at being doll?

My smile painted so well it looks real?

A laughter too warm to be fake?

Or people are just to ignorant to see

That I'm a broken doll whos tape is falling off