I am made from porcelain.
My skin is pale, and I am delicate, breakable.
I am not an angel, for I do not bare a halo, but I wear a set of frayed wings upon my back.
Though my wings are not as they once were, I yearn to fly, be free.
I wish not to be taken by the hand, but to explore on my own.
Alas, I am but a doll on display for amusement, so flying will not be an option for me anytime soon.
Once my newness and excitement wear off, or once someone grows out of dolls like me, I fade into the distant shadows like many others. I know this because I have had many owners, companions, friends. Yet sometimes, just sometimes...
Someone takes a chance on me, and lets me out of those dreary shadows, even if only for a while.
They look past my broken wings and allow me to feel as if I am a part of their life.
People like this allow me to feel as if someday I will be taken off display.
Someday, I will be able to fly.