What a match, oh what a pair,
my broken china doll and I.
Abandoned in dark corners, where no-one ever sees.
Cracks and broken pieces lay scattered on the floor
of a once cherished child and a once treasured toy.
Now you may never see it, but we weep, both her and I
for discarded things have feelings
if not always naked to the eye.
My broken china doll and me
don't understand what we have done.
For objects once dressed up in pretty things
became fragmented, tortured lumps.
It's not always understood,
why we throw away all broken things,
because sometimes they're most beautiful
if we only ever were to look within.
Now we may be broken and discarded,
never to be repaired again
but with a little helping hand, we could learn to grow.
For through our cracks the sunlight could seep,
making us feel whole again.
But my broken china doll and I
maybe too far gone to ever be saved.