| Back when she was a girl there was a plan to see her through her life:
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| Get married settle down and have some kids and be a good housewife.
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| But she would go to bed at night,
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| with day-glo stars and fairy lights stuck on the ceiling of her room,
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| as she dreamt of another life.
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| it’s saccharine and silicone, for a broken barbie doll.
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| Sleeping pills and alcohol, and nights she’d rather not recall,
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| for a broken barbie doll.
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| And though the hands that played with her were cold,
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| she let them drag her down.
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| And as her cardboard world begins to fold,
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| she’s lying on the ground,
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| Her mother writes her every week,
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| she says she’s worried for her health.
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| Her dad says she’s finding her feet,
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| but now she’s lying on the shelf.
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| Like faulty goods that are returned,
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| her pretty fingers are all burnt. |