a little bit of a resurrection
my life journal: cutmedown








porcelain


I am porcelain in strong hands. I am smashed in a thousand pieces on the sidewalk. Footsteps on my broken body, thunder, thunder. All I ever wanted was to be loved. Hope is always smashed, always beaten. There is no place for dreams to come true, I do not deserve for my dreams to come true. Dirty face, dirty hair, skin scraping slowly against cement, falling, falling. Everything is spinning and chalky rain drops are falling on the hot grass. The hot, hot grass. Porcelain, tiny pink flowers. Shining, cherished, smashed.

written on 2002-12-11 at 8:08 p.m.

she / lost