dead

she is a dead doll

morphed of clay

abandoned on the shelf

to dry.

she is a girl

with stuck limbs

that never move

when she says.

she is what she was

fixed in form

paralyzed by the past

that eats at her wings.

she is a fairy trinket

sometimes a show pony-

feels always broken

never beautiful.

for now she stands

until the wind in the window

whispers

and she flies

but down.