What Makes Me Me?

I was a delicate porcelain doll:

Beautiful,

And whole,

But at some point

I became broken

And life took its toll.

But they didn’t want to just leave me there,

Useless

And a mess,

So they did something kind of weird:

They rapped my cracks in bandages

And it seemed like a success.

 

But when you’re wrapped in bandages

You don’t quite move the same,

You need supports and movement aids

And you have to change your name.

“Porcelain doll” was incorrect,

That was no longer my role

Instead I was a puppet here

In the place I once called home.

 

It took some time but eventually

I accepted my new role

I could have tried

To fight for my identity

But really, what was the point?

I moved rather rigidly

The way I was told.

Some days I cried

Dreaming of a different reality

One day when I got old.

 

But one day, I finally broke free

And put myself together piece by piece

But when I saw my reflection

In the mirror of my selection

I couldn’t help but think

That something about me was missing.

And as I thought

I found myself caught

In a comprehension

I didn’t want to mention:

I really was't sure

Who I was anymore.

 

And so I'm on a journey

And won't rest until I find

The piece of me I left behind;

The piece that makes me me.

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