A narrative, call it that if you wish…
I am, a porcelain with a shattered face, as for when or how, I had, shattered my originally, delicate, and white-washed and pretty face, I can, no longer recall.
no longer perfect, flawed, with pieces missing…not my photo.
Porcelain, with a shattered face, what I am, and, there’s, nothing I CAN’T do about it, I’m already, destroyed. As a porcelain, with a shattered face, I have, no one, to take care of me, to love me, I was, tossed away, thrown out like TRASH, by my previous owner, she’d, discarded me, after her parents bought her, a brand new doll don’t know how many Christmases ago…
A porcelain with a shattered face, there’s no place on earth, for such a broken thing in the world, after all, all you humans live in the mindset of, if something’s broken, then just, throw it away, there’s, NO need to, fix it up, after all, things are, very cheap here in this world.
and this, is how it looks now, not my photo still…
A porcelain with a shattered face, you will always be, broken, from the inside out, there’s, NO way you can and will, EVER be fixed again, NO matter how I cried, how much force I’d used, I can’t seem to, fix myself up properly again, god DAMN it!!!
A porcelain, with a shattered face, she is, unwanted, because she no longer had that, white-washed face, so perfect, silky smooth, she’s flawed, no longer complete, the moment, her owner got mad, and, banged her against the walls.
Life, the Obstacle Course 