Mirror, mirror, on the wall am I the fairest of them all?
This one not for the faint of heart,
This is no bedtime story or Walt Disney fairytale.
Only 7 years bad luck,
Blood dripping onto the bathroom side.
Many broken pieces,
Tiny splinters sparkle pink in the light.
A disfigured soul looking back through the shattered pieces,
Welcome to a mind that reached it‘s end.
Sweeping away the fragments that are left laid,
Playing jigsaw till the end,
Finding the final pieces when the blood finally dried.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem