Porcelain Emotions

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 01, 2018

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Submitted: July 01, 2018



She knows you see it.
In her eyes glassed over in a pit of despair.
She knows.
But she still hides.
You can learn all about her.
Just look in her glossy grey-blue eyes.

They hold a hurricane of feelings.
Some even she's ignorant to.
Just going around in constant circles.
Tearing her apart in many ways.
This is her hell, inside her mind.

You know those porcelain dolls?
The very beautiful ones, I mean.
Ones with very fair flawless skin.
Perfect crimson colored lips.
Angelic eyes.
Smiles plastered onto their perfect faces.

Yeah, that is her.
Except she doesn't see herself as perfect.
Instead she knows she is far from it.
Others tell her she is beautiful the way she is.
Of course being a girl she doesn't believe it.
You don't see what she sees.

You don't see the cracks in her body.
One break for every fall.
The ones that she has had to get up from.
You have no idea what she feels.

This particular girl,
She does not care about herself.
Keeping up appearances is only for the act.
Simply keeping up with her show.
Only she knows what the finally will be.

She is past her breaking limit.
She has bled too much to care.
Inside she is going numb to the feeling of emotions.
She has lost herself to that pit of depression a long time ago.
And when she closes her eyes at night she no longer dreams.

She runs for her life.
Because she knows that if she stops running.
She might as well pull that invisible trigger.
Blow her brains everywhere for the world to see.
And all you'll see is her final masterpiece.

Maybe I can tell you why.
She runs so she can see her friends smile at the end of the day.
To see her family love and hate.
She stays alive because she is too scared to leave.
She fears her death more than anything.
She can't handle someone crying over her pathetic life.

Would you love this broken doll even though she doesn't love herself?
I know that one cannot love another if they do not love themselves.
So does that mean she is left to die unloved?
Or will she die knowing a fake love?
Fake love is better than no love.
She believes that.

I, myself, give her props.
For she wears the best mask I've ever seen.
A smile stitched onto her face.
Smiling eyes.
Lying when she giggles.
And when she laughs, she makes it sound oh so true.

I've never seen someone go through so much trouble to hide.
Sooner or later everyone falls from the act.
They get tired.
She is tired.
She wants to fight.
But she knows she is weaker than she seems.

Getting up is a chore.
Her crying has stopped.
And her blood runs dry.
She can still pick up a razor.
Lately she has no reason to.
She does it anyway, it is second nature now.

People see the scars.
She knows it.
She watches them stare at her.
You see her broken shell of a body, thinking she is whole.
But she knows she is hallow.
There is nothing you, I, or her can do to stop her from crumbling.

Eventually she will fall.
And on that day she won't get up.
She'll just wonder around.
Emotionless as can be.
Nobody will notice.
Nobody will care.
As long as she is there.

So she knows you see it.
In her eyes glasses over in a pit of despair.
She knows.
But she still hides.
You can learn all about her.
Just look in her glossy grey-blue eyes.

© Copyright 2019 Gabi Marie. All rights reserved.

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