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Broken Glass

In my dimly lit room I stand. Silent.
Watching shadows as they creep.
In front of a mirror I stand, reflecting back to me.
Why isn't it clear? The image shall I see?
The person I once was.
Am I lost? Am I alone? Is there anyone to hear?
I see so very little now, the dark is close behind.
I take my fist, crash through the glass.
No pain I feel inside.
Complete apathy is all that I see.
Death reflecting back at me.
Jagged pieces of my life scattered on the floor. Broken pieces of this glass;
like seashells on the shore.
Broken glass it is, as I hold it in my bloody hand.
Streams of crimson trickle down, watching as it drops like rain to the ground.
Now all I hear is that silent screaming sound.
I open my eyes. Only now I realize I'm standing in front of myself once again. Staring down at my hand. No broken glass is on my floor, no shattered pieces of my life as I have seen before. Yet looking at my hand, I unclench my fist.
In my grasp is that broken piece of jagged glass...

Bin sehr nachdenklich heute...Komm grade nicht mehr mit meinem Leben klar, bis morgen alles wieder genauso ist wie immer. Immer das gleiche, jeden Tag.

10.1.07 00:06
 


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