I feel as though,
I am doing so much...
chipping pieces of myself away...
getting so little in return.
Like a porcelain doll,
so weak, so fragile—
but still intact...
at least, for now.
My heart yearns for acceptance,
my mind drips with possibilities,
my happiness wishes to stay with me,
but it seems as though we are history.
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A/N
Some of my poems might be short like this...it's just easier.
Plus, I made this while I was in the car coming home...I wrote it on a sticky note.
NOTE: THE PORCELAIN DOLL AND UNDER PART IS AN ADD ON TO THE ORIGINAL POEM.
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Body {Prose Vol. 1}✔
Poetry❝A struggle with body image is a study of physicalities and of the mind itself, for the mind plays with what the eyes perceive. The body, mind, and soul are connected, and it is up to us to determine how to respect them.❞ - Me These writings are my...
