Porcelain Heart

I polished my edges to shine like the stars,

A doll in a window, admired from afar.

They wanted perfection, so I gave them my skin,

But the cracks in my heart grew louder within.

I built my own castle, high in the clouds,

A throne made of whispers, the cheers of the crowd.

But fame is a lover who kisses with teeth,

It promises diamonds, then robs you beneath.

I danced in the glow of their endless applause,

Chasing their love, despite all its flaws.

But I learned the hard way, it’s all a mirage,

A fleeting devotion, a gilded corsage.

Now I hold my porcelain heart in my hands,

Fragile and worn, yet it still understands—

There’s beauty in scars, in the pieces that break,

In loving yourself for your own quiet sake.

So I’ll sing my own songs, and I’ll play my own part,

A symphony stitched from my porcelain heart.

No longer a puppet, no strings to unwind,

Just a girl reclaiming

 the fire in her mind.