I sit in my room, listening to the rain.
My thoughts are a jumble, a tangled mess of a ball of string.
I come along, playing with them, like a cat.
Trying to untangle the string.
The rain stops.
But there's a puddle forming on the tiles.
I look to the roof, but there is no leak.
The water is rising.
I touch my face, my skin is damp.
The mirror in front of me is a liar.
It's saying that I am beautiful.
But
I'm not.
I see tears rolling, waves crashing.
Emerging from my eyes.
I grab a bottle of full shampoo and throw it.
The mirror shatters, leaving me broken.
I sit among the shards.
Broken mirror, broken me.
I'm just like the pieces, scattered over the floor.
I cannot be fixed, only replaced.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem