I looked at a reflected image.
Its shattered crystalline
projected a writhing glow;
thus, out the soul that is mine.
Several pieces were missing
followed by a dozen more fallen.
All was left was almost nothing;
only an iris glistening its pours.
I wince to hold those pours
to look closer to a mirror shattered.
Peering harder only gave them sores.
Can I still look at my small reflection?
I still see a sparkle inside an iris...
I held them shut since they felt red.
The temptation to release them were too much,
but I simply shook my head.
I endeavored to peer harder,
but I tried to no avail...
My efforts lost; I'm a martyr.
Beliefs to peer through...failed.
Do I cry in dissappointment?
Do I record my failings?
Or sulk about it with its own sendiments?
Do I dare to wallow up in this darkness?
The darkness that so covered my image
upon the given instance?
I close my eyes to hold more crimson sorrow
I felt light-headed as if in a trance...
My eyes creaked open to see thousands of
crystalline of shining chunks.
I picked them up with my bleeding yet tough
hands that reunited pieces into one...
Several hours passed...
I awe in rage for the image shattered again,
but I continued
to built a image, large times ten...
Soon, my image fell in a cascade
it may be broken,
but a new mirror can be made;
my point vaguely spoken...
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