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Pieces of a Broken Mirror Pieces of a broken mirror, lying shattered on the floor. Razor sharp slivers of an image you once, so cleverly wore. Deep cuts of awakened reality, in the palm of a harvested dream. Trickling from unsuspecting fingertips, is the blood of your deceptive scheme. Eyes blinded by the imposed reflection, after years of a desperate search; yearning for a looking-glass image, the seed which created my birth. Similarities echoed with reverberation, by your hands an illusionary slight. A lifetime of falsehood spent in darkness, overcome by your phantasm light. Ghosts concealed beneath the shiny surface, now exposed in the silvery dust. It was never a daughter you longed for, but an object for your game of self-lust. |
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