The paint becomes her,
(So pretty so pretty)
And wipes her clean.
She is reborn
In this new, sickly skin.
(So proud of you)
Some mockery between
Life and doll;
Her false porcelain
Presents
Blackened eyes,
And bloodstained lips,
(Such good fortune)
Like some twisted invitation
To the monster
Beckoning beyond her paper divide.
(Such a lucky girl)
Yes, here is your lucky girl.
Break me if you will,
Oh Husband of mine.
I do not fear your heavy hands,
Or you harsh, bitter breath.
Crack me open if you dare:
The child you seek is gone;
Only broken china remains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem