all we are
all we could be—

nothing.
dolls, porcelain flesh
chilled to the touch, like death
injected the morgue preservation-liquids into the
sluggish heart filled with rain and misery,
struggling to pump the frozen blood that has suddenly
become liquid lead in the face of gravity and dread
crooked smile and sunken eyes,
cracked bones laced with fractures and invisible bruises
just toys, just broken toys
dolls so perfect, so perfect in their withering destruction
fabricated so frighteningly well;
they're so fake, they're beyond fake

we are one in the same.