Title: Porcelain
Author: Taby Murali
A product of alchemic design
Not even this face is mine
A walking empty shell of tin
I can't escape this skin I'm in
(Am I made of porcelain?)
With nothing left I have to feel
Is it possible that I'm not real?
Just an empty shell to save
An only child lost and grave
(Searching for the cure to change)
All these memories that I hold dear
I can't even cry my own tears
Without the rain to help me
(A/n: I accept any constructive criticism or suggestions.)