She had a collection of antique dolls that she strategically placed on her shelves
Colour coded, & sitting upright
Gentle to the touch, yet egg shell fragile
Taking care of them was in a manner, cathartic
For it was the only thing in life she had control of
Forced therapy sessions
Hypnosis caused her eyes to glaze over like Betty, her favourite.
Betty wore a black dress, a symbol for how she was always in mourning
And a corset that was a reminder how she could barely breathe in this world
The porcelain & crackled face foretold how everything would soon fall apart
A cataclysmic change was coming.