I have been
a broken doll of bisque.
Lines cracking across
her pretty, delicate features.
A road map of where she has been
and who has touched her
I have been that doll.
Played with,
then dropped
and put away.
She is hollow inside,
that doll I’ve been.
Nothing behind
those shiny, sparkling, hazel eyes.
Her chest void of a heart,
which was stolen and replaced with fluff.
I have been the doll
who once was a girl,
and would be again,
but was only a doll.
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