Dollhouse

I often feels as if
I am the only doll
in the dollhouse that realizes
she is a doll,
The only one who can see
past the shiny plastic facade
and know that everything
means so much less
than we would like to think.

I imagine it like this-
Our existence as some
daydream in the big head of god,
a half-formed thought
and half-hearted whim,
not yet created.

I pray he will discover
the horror, the outcry
of the people against
their own being, and
that he will quit the thought
and never pick it up again.

That he will quit the thought
and the dizzying spin
of our aliveness will end.