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I am expensive for I am made with earnestness.
Spun around to mold a porcelain doll-still lifeless.
Once I'm done, I'm an exhibit that's timeless-
Yes! I am beautiful but I break with carelessness.
I have a pale and pallid complexion;
My smile is a painted decoration.
My laugh is a sound of feigned elation.
It is all but a mere inside reflection.
I am surely irrational, especially with how I'm feeling.
Call it hypersensitivity but it's just a natural thing.
I fantasize to love but I cannot fathom to lose my mind.
I'm cowardly, only to protect myself-so I get left behind.
You say you care and love me-is it genuine?
Prove it, don't just say, so that in you I may start to believe in.
Don't be elusive with your words and intentions.
I'm scared of ambivalent actions that need deep contemplations.
Is it wrong to just wish someone would care truly?
Someone I could trust to keep me and not break me?
All I have is this fragile porcelain heart.
I'm pitiful, for even life I can't venture for lark.
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YOU ARE READING
Poem Addiction
Poetry"A poet's greatest strength is his words; his greatest weakness is his emotions; his greatest addiction is his paper that is the world he lives in." -Eskay Kitz-
