Aureline Evie

Aureline Evie Poems

The Best Poem Of Aureline Evie

Broken Doll

Maybe
I wasn't always this way.
I was better at hiding it.
I wasn't broken. But I am now.

I am no plastic doll, I cannot be bent and played with; molded as the world pleases. I am a porcelain doll. Delicate, fragile, something to put on a shelf. Never meant to be played with. But I am.

This world is shattering
My heart
My soul
My spirit
My will to live.

This evil breaks me.
I am
Broken

I put on a mask every morning, so I might hide the cracks just a little longer. The medicine gives another mask to hide behind, but it cracks just as easily.
I tell my friends I am fine.
Because I don't want to burden them.
Because they don't understand
Because no one understands. So now I am alone, without ever being alone.

I am
broken
Behind every mask I try to put on
Because no medicine in the world will fix the cracks in this mask I wear
In a way that can never be fixed

This mask I wear to protect myself, to hide the way I am. But the masks begins to crack, and the real cracks show through.
I am a porcelain doll.
I'm supposed to be
Perfect
Friendly
Smart
Outgoing
Happy
Healthy
Normal

A porcelain doll is not
Angry
Depressed
Suicidal
Broken.

A porcelain doll should not have cracks. But I do.
Because I am
Weak
Depressed
Suicidal
Scared
Broken

I want to hide within myself, Curl up and back myself into a corner. Where I see no more, hear no more. Think no more.
I want to
Be Away from this panic
Be Away from others
Be Away from the sights
Be Away from the sounds
Be Away from the monster that makes me feel this way. But I cannot escape. This thing that I cower from, is inside me. And will always be.

I terrify
My friends
My family
My teachers
Anyone around me
Everyone around me
You, when the cracks begin to show. The mask shatters, and my own cracks become visible, my fragile porcelain skin becomes available. Vulnerable to the attacks that the world offers. They cower from the same monster I do. Myself.

My eyes begin to crack first. People see the
Stress
Sadness
Hopelessness
Loss
Anger
Fear
Brokenness.

Then is when they see me for who I am. What I am. A broken doll, with ugly cracks.
I am not accepted in the world. This world only wants pretty dolls. The perfect dolls.
No one wants a broken doll.

Aureline Evie Comments