object, objectified

i am made like a doll made of china,

i appear as perfection to the eye,

pretty face,

perfect complexion,

angelic like features,

but eventually over time people grow tired of me,

they find something better to play around with,

time after time i am given away,

i never knew of a place called home,

i could never speak, never move,

i just sat as others used me time after time for their own pleasure,

but what do i get?

i am thrown into a dusty box,

and tossed away,

and slowly but surely i shatter,

piece by piece,

and owner by owner,

i lose myself when i am unwanted by the ones that were supposed to love me,

and all that’s left are the shards on the ground,

in a million different places,

all little pieces of me,

that were broken,

by a million different men

-is love too much to ask for?