Perfect

Sitting in the perfect house
Perfect picture 
Pretty fucking perfect dolls
Perfect daughter, perfect son
Perfect mother, perfect life
Sitting in a perfect row
Matching dresses 
Plaited hair, made you look good, pretend to care
A photograph upon the wall
What the fuck, it's perfect! 
So what, then is all this fucking fuss about? 
There is a darkness that's growing like a blackout blind, it's blocking out the light.
There's a dog leash hanging up on a hook in the kitchen. 
There's a clenched fist full of diamond rings 
There's a dark room full of secrets and lies. 
There's a confidence that's been shattered into smithereens on the fucking perfect floor. 
There's a little girl hiding somewhere in this house
This house is made of lies. 
Perfect lies, makes perfect sense when you tell them over the perfect fucking garden fence. And there's perfect dresses for perfect doll's. 
Doll's don't feel the fist or perfect crack of the perfect whip. 
Doll's don't bruise
Doll's don't cry 
Doll's don't break 
Doll's don't speak up or scream when they're being torn from limb to fucking perfect limb. 
Doll's don't know
Doll's don't grow
Doll's are perfect 
Perfect, perfect, fucking perfect… 
A picture perfect house for dolls.