What is it like to bind your limbs in lace?
To control your very being?
My own little doll of ceramic beauty.
Your are more than my pretty face.
Lace is what holds you to me.
Wrapped around my fingers you dance upon my desk.
I control your every movement and yet me you don't resent.
You come when I call you because i move you my self.
I broke your spirit long ago and you love me for it.
Until I find another doll to brake you are mines forever.
Defiantless yet full of vigor inspired by my finger.
I move you to and fro and for now you will go.
The shattered ceramic of the others lie mangled at your feet.
Brake our binding bond of lace and rest forever in pieces.
Oh yes, like the mangled nothings at your feet.