Broken Doll

Photo by James Sutton on Pexels.com

Am I a doll broken beyond repair?

The glue isn’t holding on anymore.

The polish is wearing out.

My porcelain skin peeling off like weathered rocks.

A perfect hairdo, now looks like the leftover grass in the wildfire.

Rosy red cheeks are still red but for untethered reasons.

The bow that perfectly sat on the lush blonde now rests with its eyes shut on my lap.

Delicate, intricate shoes made with “everlasting” affection, what so damned came along the way, lying my way through every sitting confession. 

The others stared at me, like the upper class at the refugees.

Their perfectly tied hair, lush eyes, and I remembered how mine were pools of honey.

What I did to myself, the consequences to my actions, this little creature lived her life being clumsy.

Alas! As I decay and decompose into the earth, my eyes are heavy not with tears but regret for here begins another ending.

For here beings another ending…

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