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:
Me
My community