There she sits, way up on her shelf
Please do not touch that fragile self
Although a doll she may seem to be
She once was as real as you or me
Her shining locks so pale and shining
Made that way from too much dying
Long lashes surrounding eyes bright
Mascara-dark frame for contacts’ light
Years of blush made her cheeks too red
Thick ‘natural’ look over skin so dead
After several operations quite drastic
Her face so smooth it looks like plastic
The silicone inserts put inside her chest
Gave a strange roundness to each breast
Her body nipped, tucked and cut
Subtracted cellulite, added butt
Her long legs waxed to a high sheen
Toes crammed into high heels mean
What once was quite real is now all fake
Don't touch her or she just might break
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