The girl looks in the broken mirror
shatterd glass laying across the floor
her dreams are fragments
each peice of glass
represents the dreams now cracked.
At the end it doesn't matter
whether or not dreams are shattered.
It matters if you paint a pretty picture
with a razor and your wrist
or does your story have a twist?
Look in the broken mirror
sweep up the shattered peices.
Your dreams are fragments
each peice of glass
no longer cracked.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A really fantastic poem, really like it. A great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, Children Of The Night.