The mirror shattered on the floor
Obscured her face I don’t know her anymore
Tries to find her way back and
Blood is dripping as she reaches out her hand
Attempted to pick up the pieces
But was cut so deep, so the shard she releases
As the pure crimson flows free
Again, she picks up a fragment, but it’s only me©

by Mac


Filed under Depression, inspiration, Life Lessons, poetry

7 responses to “Pieces

  1. Love the thought, some time we are a own worst enemy.
    The person I have become is not the person I want to be.
    but still I continue to work to that goal \ remembering what does God want for me, to feel his Love
    your poem is lovely

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  3. Beautifully, written! We really can cut ourself the deepest. Picking up the pieces can be difficult. But, seeing them put together is the masterpiece!

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