Mirror Image Poem by Fallen Pieces

This withering reflection is a cushion to my
soul and this impulsive flow of pain I feel
I won't rely on sight again.
I'm hiding the pain behind a pretty face;
Behind this mirror image

The broken pieces thrown away won't erase the weary gaze,
but linger on your sleeve of tales,
to rot away the gloss of truths.
You're picking up the shards I'm setting down
to this broken mirror image.

Covering the scars the best that I can,
the claws of fault reaching out,
tainted glass with silver borders,
with crimson tones parading shame on this mirror image.

I won't give into it again.
I'll just throw it all away,
I'm hiding the pain behind a pretty face.
This is the only way, this mirror image.