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A broken mirror
Surrounded by shards
Droplets of blood
Lay on the ground
Seven years bad luck
Or so they say
To her it would mean
Just more of the same
Anger had bubbled
As she stared in the glass
Her true self on show
Until the glass smashed
Oh how she hated
Just what had been shown
The disgust she felt
Mental images left
By lovers of old
Others would say
She was beautiful
They did not see the scars
Not on show
As the blood ran
So did her tears
Soon she’d be free
From internal anguish
The mirror no longer
A vessel of torture
Now hundreds of shards
Reflecting the end.

© S.J Warner 2016.

(Picture from Pinterest).