I have been born.
I will die.
Humanity broken down into its simplest form.
Born. Exist. Die.
Craving beauty and love.
We decorate our bodies to prove our worth.
Strip me of the frivolous clothes, the make-up, and the jewels.
Abandon the cover-ups, and the enhancements.
Leave me bare.
Uncover my truth.
I am cracked and broken.
No longer a whole porcelain doll.
I am not and will never be societies perfection.
My own fractured soul gleams with a beauty.
I contain a stunningly sad sonnet written across my soul.
I am bare,
I am broken,
And I am beautiful.