a cracked china porcelain doll

with her white, white hands,
she grips the chin of death,
leans forwards and whispers,
'i will not die, i will not die'

and he laughs in her face,
traces cracks down the porcelain of her leg,
points out just how delicate she is.

she slaps death.
he recoils.

she lets the slumbering disease lie,
leaves the illness dormant and waiting,
for when it comes for her,
she will fight it kicking and screaming

because she is not vulnerable,
and all of her weathered china limbs
only show just how tough she can be

because when she is pushed,
she lands on what might as well be glass,
but no matter how many times she shatters,
she picks up the pieces and starts again,
re-builds herself until
all that is left are a few spider-web cracks.

so she confronts death
and she threatens the one thing
that can erase her from existence 
with all of the delicacy of a wrecking ball

and he laughs at her
and he throws a stone

and she shatters
and she re-builds

The End

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