• such a state of insanity,
    as ripe as a pear, is near
    she was driven to complete madness
    by the ticking of her heart -
    like a clockwork bomb
    set to explode.

    tick, tick, tick.
    echoing within the decayed,
    dusting parts of her awareness -
    insanity a mere grasp away.

    it makes reality a living nightmare
    the illusion of success, so close.
    these comatose dreams
    ripped at her stitched skin.
    a porcelain, fragile doll
    'twas her, such a shame.

    her life, a blessing - a curse.
    like an undecided winning or loss.

    she overdosed on the illusion of love,
    ripping out her strewn, straw hair.
    she reached for the pills, one by one,
    fairytales, dreams, suddenly clear.

    shattered by her brutal imagination,
    that woman defied the puppeteer.
    she ripped out her stitching
    one by one - falling apart,
    lines as fine as the thinnest brush stroke
    that he used to paint her face,
    like permanent make-up.

    dear, those tears streaked
    along her pretty wooden face,
    are also permanent, like a
    maiden in distress.
    just dreaming and sighing,
    of a better life out there, scolding
    her children, day after day.
    abuse and hatred age them quickly.
    meanwhile she wishes she didn't
    settle down so early.
    now a mother of three, she silently
    cries herself to sleep every night.

    now this abused, discolored doll
    spends her illusioned days dreaming
    of when she can truly be,
    by tearing herself apart.