Alone, she is all to herself, like a porcelain doll upon
A shelf.
No one knows what she's thinking; no one cares
What she's feeling.
On a shelf so fragile and pretty, never showing
Any pity.
She thinks she's real; she can see; she can feel!
She always cries, though her face remains dry.
No tears are shown, though she's so alone.
Someone finally takes her down; now she has a
Smile, not a frown.
Slowly, her smile disappears, as her glass ears hear,
"Since he's so little, we still put her in the
She's put in place, on a shelf of black lace.
Here comes the tears, as the lady disappears.
As the shelf doors slam, she realizes a porcelain
Doll is all she is.