In this Valley of Dolls
A child was born
With life and vitality
And plenty of scorn
She looked and thought
A different way
So other parents
Warned stay away
Hence, happily
She played alone
Amongst the squirrels
And flowers grown
Why should she compete
To be shallow and cold?
Where is the freedom
Trapped in a mold?
Life is for dancing
Creating a song
No matter who listens
Or judges it wrong
Call her a stranger
What’s that make you?
But the mirrored-image
Of a personal view
Plastic is dead
Duplication lives not
For imitation is suicide
In case you forgot.
Ciera S. Louise c. July 06, 2005