...like a porcelain doll's face

*My skin, which seems to reveal the sun's rays
and reflects that white, is no more than a mask.
The dark color and light of my eyes
It is nothing more than the reflection of my tears.*

The dolls look so perfect,
They must always be careful to appear flawless
but you know, they are not meant to smile.
Have facial expression so empty and dull
but no one notices, look only at their beauty.
They must be careful not to spoil your hair
for this fail to live...

They are weak and fragile and cold to the touch,
we must be careful not to drop them,
the dolls are made just to be observed.
Some remain in the box, or resting on a bed
to make beautiful scene in the room.
Their faces with no imperfections
are smooth and bright.
but are covered with white tears...
hidden by makeup
for make their look so perfect.

The stare, wide-eyed and weeping
is eternally youthful, can not grow old
but inside the sadness continues to rise.
The other dirty their clothes lying
and dolls are thrown or forgotten.

*People stay with blink eyes
sitting watching the world go
looks for beauty in things frivolous,
As a face of a porcelain doll
scratched by an eager handshake,
go away...
blankly, silently ...*