fragmented truths split the porcelain dolls posing in the next room
forever waiting on the badly impersonated wood shelves
for someone to break them
to save them from this torture
and they begin their well rehearsed lines this night
that will lead to raised voices and vile threats
that will lead to loss of control
loss of dignity
and something will get thrown
a glass, a spoon, a plate of salsa and chips
she will work her way to the bottom of the stairs
and allow herself one final scream before ascending
to her room
she will contemplate the porcelain dolls
as she catches a glimpse of them within arms reach
and they secretly plea for her to do it
but in their simple quiet beauty
they hold the only bit of sanity she can still touch
her only reason to cry