hate to tell you, friend.

I like you, it's just that
I hate all your paper-doll chains.
I don't know why you cut so many,
over and over, the same lifeless limbs,
triangle skirts repeated in infamy.
I am ashamed to admit I'm a little sick
of all the bits of paper sticking to floors
and clinging to counter tops.
Everyone else likes them,
they eat food off of tiny plates
and stare at the chains encircling the room:
"those are some cute paper dolls,
may I have some? are you selling them?"
All I see is a copy of a copy of a copy.