(I hope no one understands this.)

A china doll with a hollow face,
A cup of prismic tears in place,
Holding every hope and dream,
Draining me in private screams.
Wasting life and wasting age,
Calming social wars that waged.
Jaded tears pooled into the bowl,
Taking my bread with a side of my soul.
Thoughts and mind make resurrection,
Carving me into perfection.
Though lacking eyes and lips of pale,
The doll breathes in while I exhale.