The Doll That's on My Shelf

The doll that's on my shelf
Sits; face cracked
Dress worn
Arm torn; paint chipped
She smells of old mothballs
She's sad

The doll that's on my shelf crys at night
Engulfed by dust and pale moonlight
No one thinks she's pretty
Not anymore

The doll that's on my shelf shouldn't be sad
Do not cry doll
Soon you'll be in doll heaven
Safe from enprisonment