Damaged goods


Like a porcelain that fell
And by heaven’s grace, it did not break
But there was a crack
On the doll’s face
Beginning from the doll’s blushing cheek
And branching up towards her eye
Until, finally, it reached the brow
And darkened was the sky
As such, the wound was hidden
And all could live on
To remember the smooth smiling face
Of the foolish little broken doll

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