There is a crack in the mirror
There is a pain in her heart
Through the broken reflection, her face is clearer
Reflecting both parts of her, like Descartes
Time slices through her like a knife
Slicing the tattered remnants of her soul
She sits and waits for death to take her away
For him to come and take her to his soiree
All she is or was has faded away
Her chest torn open and her heart on display
Thought of as worthless, dismissed as a junkie
“Death come and take me, I yearn to be Free”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem