From blank eyes she stares,
an emotionless doll,
a decoration.

A frilly gown,
painted face,
delicate and made of glass,
so perfect on her stand.

She sees everything,
secrets kept locked,
beneath her serene smile,
behind tender glass.

Hair like satin,
soft and fragile,
a prize on a dusty shelf.

Priceless yet valuable,
still and silent,
the porcelain doll stares into the night.

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