The mirror is,
shattered,
into many,
pieces.
Each shard is like,
a memory,
lost beneath the,
pain.
Like a petal of a,
rose,
that lands upon,
a candle.
Though all seems,
lost,
it is not,
for hope resides,
in every,
shard,
of the broken glass.
Each one fits,
unto another,
ready,
to be glued,
back,
as one.
