Hardships, Literature, Melancholy, poem

Mirrors

I look around through my shoulders

I see myself in every angle

Mirrors exposed and all I can reach

Is why my eyes can only see

The very depth of my breach

What a pity that is

That the hole in my mind kept burning

Like a syringe was ripping through

Like this hurt was made for two

But I am alone

Sipping wine and listening to a tune

Getting drunk of my own sorrows

Does it feel familiar?

Very much

I look at my reflection in the mirrors

And feel myself streak my heart with my own blood

 

 

 

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