Angry · sad

Polished porcelain

I sit on the shelf,
Polished,
They all gaze at me with intrigue,
My shiny coat having caught their attention,
But I’m broken.
The insides too jagged,
Cracks that gave been mended over and over,
You peeled my cover more times than I can count,
I put the pieces back more times than I can count,
I sit on the shelf polished,
But I am broken.
My inside is marked with scars you put there,
I am but a shell,
A void of despair as I sit and watch them fail to glean what is on the inside,
A perfect fixture of the fine work of verbal shredding you excel at,
I sit on the shelf polished,
But I am broken.
Its only matter of time,
Any second I could shutter,
Falling in a disgraceful heap of broken pieces,
Scattering the secrets for them to see,
The edges of every broken piece have held for so long,
Any moment now my grace will falter and gape,
Howling with unease as the pain pours,
I sit on the shelf polished
But I am broken.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s