I am a doll.

With a mask of make-up upon my face, I always look out of place, amongst the many imperfect people. No blemishes, no disproportionate factors that the naked human eye could see. People loved and hated me at the same time, some looking at it differently than others and therefore affecting their overall take in of my appearance.

I am a doll.

Without many emotions inside my heart, I had nothing to live for except for the notion of being perfect in my own way. These thoughts of useless beauty and socially acceptable alteration led me to be nothing more than a fake persona of adorability that went with my large altered eyes and small plump lips.