In between the cracks of the mirror I look at myself,
the shattered pieces make me look incomplete.
I touch it, carefully not to hurt myself,
but obviously, this broken mirror is obsolete.
What’s the use of looking at a broken mirror?
The broken reflection is not me.
“Stop touching it, the shattered pieces will hurt you.”
I hit the mirror with my fists.
The pieces fall, shattering and crumbling onto the floor.
They glint beautifully like sparkles.
And now what’s left is an open door.
My hands are bleeding from the shards,
but now I can replace it with a new mirror.
So I can stop seeing myself on a broken mirror,
and start seeing who I really am.
Let the broken mirror be replaced with a shiny new one,
so in the reflection I will be the only one.
and in the reflection I can see myself that I know.