The Porcelain Doll

In the glimpse of my glossy eyes,
Tell you the story of a broken doll.
Who once lived a broken life.
Standing strong and gracefully tall.
Though the inside of her will she is bruised and scarred,
She never gave up, she refuses to fall.

Under the skin of a porcelain doll,
Is the layer of skin so thick yet covered in memories.
The doll house where she was once placed,
Swarms the toxic atmosphere of the mentally insane.
They hurt her, they made her glassy eyes cry,
But no one knew who the real soul was hidden inside.

She is valued and she is painted,
From the brush strokes of the man who she favored.
He healed the hidden soul of the old, broken porcelain doll,
Taking her out of who she once was.
He made her beautiful and made her delicate skin tough,
Dressing her in a gown and painting on her makeup.
The creator loved his little porcelain doll,
That now lives in a Doll house she forever will love.

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