guillotine ▸ short story compilations

Porcelain Dolly

I'm tied down with heavy chains
around the ankles of my feet, prisoner
to the label, damned by the phrase
that sealed my fate.

"It's a girl."

I was immersed into a world of pretty pink dresses,
dollhouses, and plastic Barbie dolls.
Playing mommy and tea party, as I was fed fairy tale lies.
Dressed up like a dainty porcelain doll
tied to strings, marionetted by the world.

I was forced to play by the rules of the game, putting on my dollface until the day my puppet strings were worn out, and snapped, exterior shattering.

I am no longer a porcelain dolly.
I am me, I am free.