I let my heart be molded

With the stretchy dough of my soul

See the edges how they folded

When you thrust it into a bowl
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Twist it in whichever way you wanted

As long as you don't let it go

This quantity is all that you've gotten

I cannot give you more
----

Paint it any colour you thought suited

Just to cover up the blows

Now I feel raw and exploited

You don't know what you caused
----

The cracks left open they exploded

You couldn't quite fix the holes

With such force you plummeled

You didn't know how to treat souls
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You couldn't bake me like you should of

This was half-baked from the start

After everything I put up

You wanted cake I was a tart
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Hmm, so this is metaphorically speaking, I am not saying I am made of dough ;) Anyways I appreciate you reading my poems, with all my heart!! Just wanted to get it out there!❣️