in that moment, it didn't matter to them that i was laying limp as a dead dog on the pavement.

they had found their broken girl that no one cared for any longer.

so they scooped me up and carried me home.

without regard towards my safety or happiness they cut holes in my back and glued large wings to my shoulder blades.

"she'll become an angel this way" they said.

i was to be kept a secret for a while. and if anyone found me, they would think i was beautiful. not just a joke.

they took needles full of melted plastic and shot them through my veins.

i became stiff.

they took staples and pulled at my lips to make a smile.

i became happy.

they put me in a glass box, and charged a good price.

i became a living, dying, work of art.