Broken Doll

My life was so delicate

until a single, well-thrown stone broke it,

now my life is desecrated

parts scattered around, some missing,

my life now a broken doll

and now the strings of evil control it.

My life was an antique

but an old, heartless thief stole it,

now I face the mirror

my limp limbs and frail skin,

reflecting in the light

my impurities uncovered,

now they control me.

I’m a broken doll

a muse,

a toy to use,

break,

then blame.

This poem is from the poetry collection 'Broken Doll' - bit.ly/brokendollmt

#mentalhealth #abuse #poem #dark