deepundergroundpoetry.com

Porcelain Doll

Iím a porcelain doll that you see when you walk by the shops window.
Iím the picture of perfection, or so it may seem.  
My face was painted on me with a sweet little smile the day I was made, and so itís remained the same unchanged.
At a distance I look like a collectorís edition that you would want to show off to a loved one, †
but up close near the smile that was painted on is a small crack. †
Once the crack is noticed I am no longer the perfect porcelain doll. †
Iím seen as damaged and broken.
Over time the crack becomes bigger and I feel like I may shatter.  
Instead of bringing glue everyone lines up to take a swing to see how long it takes to break me.  
Swing after swing I stand and you see the crack getting bigger, one last final blow seals my fate.  
I lay in a pile at your feet shattered beyond recognition.  
Though if you stop and look ever so closely you can still see the smile that was painted on my face the day I was made.
brokenyetstrong
Written by brokenyetstrong
Published
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