The broken doll

I was once again tossed in the box I felt the kick of the staff guy doc's And I landed on another broken doll How she cried with her mouth tore I rolled my shining eyes As the stench of their perfumes arise And their expressions of everlasting grief Being tossed aside on such motif I flung at the prettiest doll who's legs were broken Ripped her head and put it on without a word spoken I pulled the dress out of another And made it my own without having to smother The jewels scattered the floor Helped me make a crown of my own And as a last touch I pilled them up And climbed on them till I reached the top The next morning I was on the shelf With a smile that was stronger than remorse itself