They said that that broken people created the most beautiful things.
Maybe that’s why my parents had created me.
I would have called myself a china doll.
But then, you came along.
Then, you,
You.
And all of you together,
had me broken.

Touching a china doll is a sacred act.
As a six-year-old, that is a difficult concept to grasp.
While you ravished me, made me your wealth for five years,
I didn’t even know my worth.
But when I knew, I was already eleven-years-old,
you were rich; had no use of me anymore.
And I was scratched.  

Then came you,
when you did, I was already at an edge.
I had forgotten what it was to be expensive when,
all I think about is the scratches on my body.
Thus,
You barely touched me, and I was on the ground.

I often think, I let the last of you happen.
Whilst being cracked on the ground, it’s hard to be expensive.
So, I didn’t scream.
I didn’t object.
I sat there and took it.

But, I was on the verge of finding my gold,
to piece me back together again.

Now I need to start over again.
I am coming for it,
when I do, I will piece myself back together.