Little girl, you're a porcelain doll.
You act as though the possibilities
Stand around you scurrilous, when
Their hands extend to lead you,
To guide you, to revive you.

The shelf you perch yourself on is old;
It withers with seconds and minutes and hours.
In days, it will deteriorate along with the
World you've found comfort in.
If you stay, you'll fall, you'll break.

Do you take pride in your golden curls?
Your fair skin, your crystal eyes?
They look quite dull from down here.
The sun may lend you its rays, letting them sink
Into your face. You could glow brighter than before.

You do not wear dust well, and the old
Clock beside you has been broken for ages.
The dress you wear has been shrunk by time
And you're much too beautiful to wallow.
Come down, and reinvent yourself.

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