Dollface

Who's that doll,

Sitting in the window,

I don't know,

Do you?

Her face is the same,

As all the others,

Porcelain smooth,

Perfect,

Smiling,

Happy,

A price tag dangling from her arm,

Up goes the facsimile doll,

To her right,

Up goes the left,

Alone in the window,

She sits,

Her fake smile,

Still plastered to her face,

The sign is flipped to,

CLOSED,

As all those living,

Leave,

This night passes,

As does the next,

And the one after that,

And hundreds more,

Alone,

She still sits,

Her painted eyes are chipped,

Her perfect smile has faded,

And one of her cold,

Lifeless fingers,

Has crashed to the floor.

Who's that doll,

Sitting in the window,

I don't know do,

You?