making friends with broken mirrors
Broken shards of glass lay on the floor
I reach out for the distorted picture me
Even as the glass cuts me
Blind to the hands all around me
Entreating a warm embrace
Too obsessed with the eyes I see
Staring back at me judging
I walk among the broken peices
That accompany my soul
A desolate land I have made my home
Forgetting your words as soon as they left your mouth
With cuts that run deep into my soul
I use them to hide what's inside
All the hurt that ruled this desolate land
I have made my friends with broken mirrors
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