Paper Soul

There is a hole where the doll
Was cut out from the paper. 
Torn and ragged, 
Her empty shape betrays her

There's a hole in her soul
Her heart is wounded and scarred
She's a work of living dark art. 

She has her secrets
She rides shotgun on the wind
"Freedom!" she cries
Balancing goodness and sin.

She's out of the picture
She dances on that fine line
Sticky tape and brown paper
Hold together her body and mind. 

Where has she gone,
That old paper doll?
You can dress her in rags
You can adorn her in gold

She is folded and crumpled
Her colors are faded
And when you hunt for her
You find she's evaded!

There is a hole in the paper
Where the doll once was drawn
You can try and match her up to it
But she is gone with the dawn.


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