You, the person in the mirror
why do you pursue in taunting me.
The broken pieces on the floor,
have now torn into my flesh deep,
and the blood will always haunt me.
My reflection is my happy clone,
yet im the one filled with sorrow.
My tears are not clear,
but a thick red, like the color
my wrist bled.
This face is caked with memories
that always seem to tease me.
The ones of you leaveing me here,
draw most of my tears.
I am weak now, from this lost,
and this has cost most of my life
devotion.
