Love is a porcelain doll.
So easy to break yet so hard to repair,
The chip may be mended, but the scar always there
The doll sometimes discarded, lays far in the rubble
Of a deserted town barred and closed.
Some are kept as a keepsake still only subtley loved,
What happens when you break the doll?
So easy to break yet so hard to repair,
The chip may be mended, but the scar always there
The doll sometimes discarded, lays far in the rubble
Of a deserted town barred and closed.
Some are kept as a keepsake still only subtley loved,
What happens when you break the doll?
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