China Doll

A doll that seems perfection, which only makes it more vulnerable.

The sweet innocence of youth,
Captured in the blue cotton fabric of her dress.
The milk of her unblemished skin,
Like clouds against the stormless sky.

The fabricated, rose-petaled lips,
Artificially upturned at the corners...
They are forever speaking, whispering,
But never uttering a sole word.

The large swirling blue marble
Pupils hidden inside her naïve eyes…
Carrying a message inside a bottle,
Rising, sinking, but never deciphered.

She, the spitting image of perfection,
Is composed only of delicate porcelain and marble.
She, the spitting image of perfection,
Shattered to countless pieces with a single downfall.