The Stages of Clay Dolls
In the rays of summer, a skittering, skipping schoolgirl roamed, blissfully ignorant of the jagged cracks against her skin,
severing what was once soft and the leather lines of stretched porcelain,
but upon the surface of a youthful complexion, danced the *Ballerina of Unburdened Steps*,
shielded from their malevolent gaze, from sharpened arrows designed to pierce her supple flesh.
For only *Virgin Eyes* could behold the untarnished vibrancy of subtle existence,
an unintentional uncharted landscape bathed in the golden glow of dawn,
thoughts untouched by the passage of time, innocence frolicking like a carefree fawn.
But ever so slightly the weather has begun to shift,
as the *Forest of Flowers* outgrows its canvas of metamorphosis,
crushing the weak, asking them to fly with wings made of broken butterfly bones,
a starkly white beacon of fading youth for uninvited eyes to roam,
weathered by perversion, a *Porcelain Playground* to trespass,
the *Meadow of Maidens* withered before the bittersweet blossom of spring could bypass.
As fall passed, it shrunk swing sets, echoes of frilly ruffles and ribbons retired,
and the *Polished Princess of Puberty* was hung in the gallery of the desired.
Yearning to decompose quickly, escape the prickly bristles of a paintbrush,
to be set free from endless smears, evade the murky slush.
No more maelstrom of muddied play, putty in a sculptor's harsh hand,
shaping to their vision, perfection in the eye they command.
In the mold of their endless expectation, revealed no renowned visionary,
each press, an indent on the soul, cracking a crumbling sanctuary.
Winter relinquished a *Mutant of Maturity*, a marble mind uncontested,
for *Hardened Clay* is uniquely immutable, unable to be molested,
and the *Brittle Brick* is left to erode with a collection of outdated expectations and ideals,
rebranded to extract its remaining value as an *Abandoned Antique of Sex-Appeal*.
- J. Cora
bright pagoda
pale rivet
lucid token