Living in a Dollhouse

I'm living in a dollhouse full of plastic and porcelain ladies and gentlemen.

Their eyes went on staring, unblinking, and ready to pin-point the flaws

And cracks of my skin.

The little children in their little gowns and pin-stripe suits

Like their kin, cheerfully living in perfection and no care.

Laughing eerily at my flaws.

Oh! How can I escape the fakery of the Dollhouse?

Nothing is or was or will be real there, the illusion.

I'll have to break out of the glass cell.

Breaking, seeping into a new world of my own,

Far away from the imagined Dollhouse I made.

Flaws make me.

Reviews

[Elodia Jaime]

Good time for me to read this. This person seems to be working on building a life that suits and or fits her. Sounds as if she will not settle for the usual. She will build her life by trial and error but it will be her life. Also, a good time for me to read this, as I work to downsize my Dollhouse...it is not a big house but it was built in 1970 by a cheapskate engineer...not big and lacking many of the amenities that are required by today's home buyers. When we moved in we had very little...today it is stuffed with stuff. The pictures are good, not common.

[GalaxyGhost]

Thank you! Random note: one of my bucket list is to actually build and create a dollhouse. This poem was inspired by my fascination with dollhouses and dolls...