My broken little China doll
cracked down the face
dripping porcelain hate
Haven't you screamed enough silence
little China doll
Wasn't it alone you needed
broken beauty
I hadn't heard your song of nightingale's lute in ages
and here you are pressed lips tight
and nothing will come
Brush her hair and make her pretty
but this little doll is still sobbing
tears of paint and lips blood red
So real in her charming glass case
free of dust and anything else that may mar
but once...
I'll admit
I took her out to play
and I knotted her hair
and smeared her make up
and took a long look at that perfect face
picked her up
and slammed her down into the ground
and now
now she is
my little broken China doll
with a face so pretty and shattered
pasted back up and tethered with tape
Now my pretty doll
now you look human...
broken...
bleeding...
crying all over again.