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Porcelain Doll

I am porcelain.
Fragile. Glued back together. In pieces.
I am still hurting, my dear.
I am so very easy to break.
My jagged edges are mismatched
and my glue is wearing thin...
I fear that, soon, I will just be a pile of glass
Once again and I will have no one
Willing to brave the cuts to put me back together.
I will have new and sharper pieces
that will prick and stick me.
They will cause unspeakable pain and
no one will ever want to pick them up.
I will be in pain. Useless. Broken. Forever.
A porcelain shell of the beauty that once was.



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