My soul feels like a broken doll left on the shelf that hasn't been touched in years, my porcelain face cracking as my smile begins to fade, something that took so long to perfect.
My stitches are pulling out and my fabric is fraying, no longer can I stay up straight, keeping myself together, I start crumbling and falling apart, left to rot.
I'll be replaced with something new, they won't dare speak my name again, as for I am a broken doll, all that left is just a faded memory of the past
As I lay to rest one last time.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.