![]() Broken PorcelainA Story by Mo![]() "I turned from the mirror and pulled on my plastic shoes and painted smile..."![]() I sit infront of the looking glass; the one that was once mama's but now is mine, and stare in wonder at who I see. She's a doll-small and pale and lifeless. She used to be pretty; the prettiest little doll on the shelf. Everyone wanted her. Everyone loved her. "Look at her hair, curly and gold," "And her eyes! So shiney and bright!" "I wish I were that thin!" "Her lips are so red and full!" "So beautiful." What they don't see are the the cracks. The bruises beneath the lace, the ribs beneath the skin, the pain beneath that pretty face. Sometimes the doll dreams that someone will come, and rescue her from har glass case, and take her to a place were there is no more pain, when her eyes will shine from joy not sarrow. But no one does. And the fall from the shelf to the floor is far and she knows if she tries to jump she'll break. Just like mama. I turn from the mirror and pull on my plastic shoes and my painted smile and head off to school-hoping that maybe today someone will care enough to pick up this broken porcelain. © 2011 MoReviews
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1 Review Added on December 12, 2011 Last Updated on December 12, 2011 Author![]() MoPortland, ORAboutJust your average-ordinary-every-day-superhero by day- though sometimes I moonlight as a teenage writer with insomnia. My goals in life include...well right now just living. And...yep. :D. more..Writing
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