Porcelain Tears
A poem
My mother always wanted a daughter
An accessory to parade
A prize to show to others
The perfect image displayed
Through her child’s beauty and grace
She sought to relive her younger days
Constantly reminding me that I have her shape, her hair, her face
Her heredity is my inheritance
A legacy I must not waste
But if I dared to break from her mold
She will shame me and withhold
The exclusive love she only gives to the pretty girl
Her affliction
Is my reflection
And her affection is bartered, never freely doled
I always wanted a mother
who treats me like a human and not like a doll
I yearn for the day she can finally see
regardless of how I look or what others perceive
That the perfect daughter, the beautiful baby girl she dreamed of
Is me