wrote this back in the eighth grade for a poetry assignment, and for my best friend who does not like porcelain doll's thinking they'll come to life and kill you. That's her sort of thinking, so I wrote a poem about that for her.

Porcelain Doll

Sitting on my desk,

Sat a little doll.

Her glass eyes following every step I took.

Her innocent porcelain smile

Held a hint of thought,

Waiting for the perfect moment

To imply her plot.

Her delicate glass fingers

Held a porcelain knife,

When I turned my back

She stabbed me with that knife.

Crumpling to the floor

I saw her smile change,

From innocent to victorious,

And then back again.

And their you go.

Rebellion Author