Poem -

The Porcelain doll

The Porcelain doll

She sat upon the highest shelf, beautiful and painted she called herself. 
Her life was good and all was well, then one day she moved and fell. 
There was no one to catch her, no one around, so when it happened she tumbled down. 
A thousand pieces, she was shattered. She was treated like she never mattered. 
Swept up and thrown away, the price of being porcelain is high to pay.
No matter how much glue you use there will always be a crack, beautiful and painted, you’ll never have her back. 

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Dean Kuch

In this life, we reap the results of everything that we do, even if the things that we do and the things that we become are the direct results of circumstances that we could have never controlled in the first place.
It's said we are never given more than we can handle; I don't believe that.
We are often given more than we can handle, which is why so many of us are broken. When an overfilled jar explodes, overflowing, it's been given too much for it to contain, or handle. The beauty in all of this, is that there is no perfection, only beautiful versions of brokenness.
Well penned, Porcelaindoll89
~Dean Kuch 💔


You have managed to encapsulate so much in so few words- really well done! A thoughtful read much enjoyed.
Lodigiana x