The Teacup

The beautiful teacup sits on the window ceil, catching everyone’s eye. 

Her beautiful painted face, is all they need to see

To them she looks happy

This teacup is me


But if you come closer and pick her up

Examine her, hold her to the light

You will see chips in her paint,

Cracks in her side, as if she had been in a fight


Her beauty is distorted 

Though no one knows

For the teacup fakes her painted face

Her true cracks, she never shows


She thinks her beautiful, happy face is all the people want to see

This, this teacup is me

This poem is about: 
My community



Expressed aesthetically poetic. The cracks on our hearts lend muse always but u write eloquently in metaphor. Kudos.


pleez do write your thoughts/ comment  under any of my poems u like. 


thanks. sorry I haven't responded? i haven't been on in over eight months 

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