She repeats their instructions to the Doll,
be polite, not heard, be satisfied with who you are.
Reading to Doll the etiquette she’s expected to remember and follow.
Trying to dissassipate the bitterness of being passed over.
The annoyance at the clothes she must wear.
Trying to convince herself this is what she was born for.
I am a girl, dollie. I am not as clever as a boy,
I am not as important as the boy father wants so much,
she tells her doll.
I cannot carry the family name, or bring this family to fame.
Soon she becomes the smiling, painted doll.
Polite coversation over tea is her politics,
who’s engaged or getting married is her biggest concern.
Having babies is her meaning in life,
for she killed the desire for more.