Paper Doll

You may know me, or you may not, but I garuntee, you don't know me at all. Mouth closed, eyes pencil-lead dull, limbs frozen, 

I am a paper doll.

I've been pinned up on white walls, celebrated as art, I've been riddled with holes, pierced from thrown darts. My character remains flat throughout the story arc, I remain unchanged. Sterotype binds me in Kindergarden paper-chains, counting down the days until I am free, until I am me.

I am a paper doll.

While everyone is filed in neat little strands, cookie cutter rows all holding hands, I stand a little apart from the set. I was made a bit different than all of the rest.

Pale in complexion, my body a reflection of other's design. Outsider's opinion has shaped my outlined. Crumpled scrap paper cover in lines others told me, made of spineless paper, you can fold me. When you hold me, I leave thins cuts on your skin. I'm tossed by the wind, covered in borrowed conviction, I spin in a storm of affliction, and I fall

I am a paper doll

Inside this paper body is a little paper heart, scotch tape patching it where its falling apart, and though it's passions have changed again and again, there is one love written on it in the blackest of pens. My soul is feather light but it holds me down, pages of emotion cause me to drown.

I am a paper doll.

I've built this house fo paper walls, with words for bricks and passion for mortor, I fill corriders with paper dreams, framed in paper memories, a little paper house for a little paper me. You see,

I am a paper doll,

but that is not all, for though I am small, I am not your plaything, I stand before you and I let my voice ring. My blank page is a canvas for writing and art, my ripped edges are what set me apart. I can sing, for when life bites and the words sting, these are a few of my favorite things. I remember my heart awaits a king. 

I write a new story, a new happily ever after. You see, earlier I described my character as flat, but its not, nor am I stock. If you remember how the game goes, paper always beats rock. I cover over the hard places, write a new story to fill up the spaces, return to the basics and put on a new face, no longer a paper doll.

I've been recalled. Reduced, reused, recycled, reformed. I'm reborn, I'm me. Paper chains ripped, I'm set free. A paper doll that underwent origami.

I have been crumpled, graffitied, folded and ripped. Pushed away, belittled, torn up and kicked. But I am something new.

Now I may not have met you. You may know me, or you may not, we may never cross paths at all.

But know I am not a mere paper doll.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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