Broken Glasss


Why people hat or love a mirror?
Is it because it shows their reflections?
Or is it because it shows their true colors?
Because all I see in a mirror is broken glass.
Broken because the one looking is afraid of herself.
Afraid that she might hurt herself.
Afraid that she might never have a future.
Afraid that if she find herself, she won't like it.
Little by little, day by day, she survives.
Another second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year in this
treacherous world.
And you can't forget the cracks
That keep breaking her to small pieces.
The people who continuously step on her as if it's the floor.
The people who do continuously glue the pieces together.
The people who don't care whether the glass is important.
Only if it gets stuck in their foot.
And for the people like me who can't seem to avoid broken glass.

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