Amelia Murray (27 December 1995)
Pieces of Your Mirror
They hurt when you touch them.
Drawing drips of blood on impact.
Translucent pieces stained with red.
Millions of them laying in dozens of hearts,
slowly painfully working their way out.
Not one the same.
They all share one trait,
they come from the same frame.
Each piece is one of yours.
Comments about this poem (Pieces of Your Mirror by Amelia Murray )
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