your hands control my perfectly
smooth and perforated little world
my words are your words
my thoughts are your thoughts
I go where you go and no-one else ever has to know
if I have been a good girl
you surprise me with a fashionable hat or dress,
whisper sweet nothings, or even promises of a shiny new tomorrow
but if you suddenly change your mind,
our love can quickly come to a standstill
you see I am merely a commodity, a fantasy,
something to pass the time
cut my hair, poke holes in my eyes,
toss me aside or set my whole body ablaze
for I am just a paper doll
and my dear you are holding
a pair of scissors in one hand
and a lighter in the other
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