Why must I always have to reshape
Running away trying to make a last ditch escape
From her piercingly cruel expression agape
Failing to escape her sharp talons in my dreamscape
With every little pick and jab at my clay skin
I can only bare it with a hesitant nod and grin
Making her think she will lay claim to a win
As my porcelain heart starts to break within
Why must I continuously try to reshape
Even when her sharpness leaves a bitter scrape
As the thinly veiled hairs stand up on my nape
Always patching my porcelain heart with flimsy tape
With every chip and fracture of my porcelain heart
I’ll pick up the pieces even after I’ve fallen apart
Accepting the chipped porcelain as vintage art
So I can finally be awoken with a fresh new start