• Is that it? Can that be all?
    Is that all there is for this doll?
    Though it is withered and dim
    It makes you happy with its porcelain grin
    Its weary strings are worn and snaps
    As the doll falls down in a sickening crash.
    So the doll ponders, with its shattered frame.
    I wonder, Oh how i wonder, what is my name?