**this wuz written 2 yrz ago but here it is now =)**
I see my reflection in the mirror
And don't like what I see,
So I punch it;
Thinking that if it breaks,
Then that'll be the last of me.
It doesn't work.
I now look at my hand,
Which is bloody and well busted up.
I watch and admire the blood as it quickly leaves my hand
And falls to the floor;
Hoping that the bleeding never stops
And that would be the last of me.
It doesn't work.
The reflection of a stranger, someone I once knew but no long do,
Beams at me from one of the shattered pieces of glass on the floor.
I stare into the stranger's face and study its features,
Hoping that in time, it'll leave me alone,
And that'd be the last of me,
But it just keeps staring back at me with accusing eyes.
It doesn't work.
I search long and hard for a way out, a way for the pain to stop.
I look to the stranger for help, thinking it may know a way out.
But as it just stares back at me, I realize my hope is gone;
That I've broken my mirror of hope.
As I wake up from consciousness, I think it may have worked this time.
It didn't work.
As I look at my hand, I see that it's still busted up,
But the pain didn't end with the broken mirror.
I see my slit wrists and the blood all around me.
I tried to get away again; I tried to escape.
But as usual...
