Born into an outline
This paper doll
Her scribbled wings
With no room to unfurl

The hand behind the pen
Was steady as a rock
But the mind that designed
Ran out of all stock

Not she’s been cut out
Pasted into her own wonderland
Her paper cuts sever threads
But she’ll never misunderstand

Making too many mistakes
She’d split outside her lines
For a proud little girl who drew her
It was just too big a crime

Not good enough now
All dirty and love on loan
She’d made the little girl so sad
Now obsolete, was cast alone

Today she entered the looking glass
It sealed her deep inside
All back – to – front and upside down
So many new places to hide

Eventually she’d warmed to this cold
It was the she had decided
Into the pleased eyes of the little girl
She would so neatly fit

Rubbing away the excess lines
Felt much better than before
But she couldn’t hold that elusive feeling
And just had to loose some more

Soon she started exploring
What lay inside those lines
With nobody else’s heavy concern
And the feeling- forever fine

The story remained the same
For what seems like years
Her silent disappearing act
Evading all of our fears

One day she went too far
And erased the last section
Drawing on won’t bring her back
No more room for any correction

She’d strived to be accepted
But that little girl never will
Now she’s one of many blank pages
Paper weighted on a windowsill

Becki