A doll with a carved up face
And a mouth needing to be replaced
Carries around rusty old scissors
Because she is afraid to get hurt severely
By the children she used to love so dearly.
A needle stuck in her skin
To stitch herself back together again
Whenever she falls apart
Bloodied dress, such a stress
She killed the child she loved
To protect herself from getting burned.
White eyes, unblinking
She’s possessed with an inkling
To kill any soul
And keeps it for her very own.
Little doll doesn’t feel
“Don’t come near.”
And of you do
She’ll get you too.


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