I'm a statue,
That's carved by once loving hands,
Made of porcelain,
Only seeming to be fragile.
There's a heart
In a girl with a porcelain face,
Full of love
That once turned shards of glass alive.
A creation
Of gentle and pure soul,
A love story,
Remembered through all the times,
Fortitude,
A strong will and eternal hope
Are the girl
That seems feeble in a porcelain guise.
Gentle heart
Is a cradle of memories, dear,
And I cry
Every time stars remind of it;
Now my face
Is so bleak and so frail from tears,
That it's breaking...
I believed in a mere deceit.
There's no one
To put back sharp, yet little pieces -
They can hurt,
For still no one knows my truth.
With bare hands,
Blind, I find every shard that's missing,
My new face
Now is not recognized by you.
