A pretty picture once before,
But that was many years before,
Now broken pieces strewn across the floor,
Like a child annoyed with a puzzle,
That knocked it to the floor,
The pieces are all scattered now,
So hard to figure out where they go,
They do not seem to fit where they used to go,
Seem warped, twisted,
Or is this just from her point of view,
Is the refection what really exists,
Or is she looking through shattered glass,
A pretty picture we all still see,
But through her shattered thoughts she sees a monster
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem