There's a dolly on my shelf
With a crack across her cheek.
She's broken yet so beautiful;
Stunning, yet so weak.

Neglected & forgotten
She's choking on the dust.
The metal stand that keeps her strong
Is crumbling with rust.

Her dress is torn and faded
Her curls have been pulled out.
There's nothing left beneath her eyes
But the hollow chill of doubt.

She used to hold a clockwork heart
That played a tune so real.
But it was taken long ago
And now she cannot feel.

A/N: Okay, personally I think this last stanza is rather weak, but I can't think of how to improve it =[