You’re a collector

Collecting us all like dolls

Just to sit on your wall

When our plastic limbs try to move

Your hands pull us from the shelf, playing with us

Creating a world where we are friends

Where the permanent marker on our faces, lips, hair

Are all washed out

But you don’t understand were not porcelain

With vacant eyes

waiting to be filled with life

Saying the cracks in our hollow skulls

Were mistakes

An accidental slip in your hands

But we know now

The toxic hot and cold

Is not normal

We’ve found the glue

Found our way

Found out how to play without guiding hands

Without your guiding hands