Porcelain

I looked through a window
at this beauiful doll.
she was porcelain
Her eyes blue
Her hair blonde
and her once white skin
was now dirty and broken.
her eyes no longer had that shine
her dress was tattered
and she was missing a shoe.
and I thought to myself
this beautiful doll
doesn't have a home
and has been neglected
sometime in her short life.
how does she end up
sitting there
for the whole world to see
just waiting
for someone to realize her beauty
and pick her up
and mend her broken pieces
and show her that love
that she had once known
but forgotten?
and everyday
she stares out the window
into a world
of sorrow and grief
happiness and love
war and hate.
and still wants to be a part of it.
a part of something beautiful.
why won't anyone choose her?
as I touched the glass
with tears in my eyes
I realized that me and this doll
had so much in common.
I realized that this dolls hair
was not blonde but pink.
I realized that the window
was but a mirror
revealing not a reflection
of a doll
but a reflection of myself.

Why wont anyone choose her...