Woe to the woman who is a reflection of I.
Mirror Mirror… can you see me?
What is this pain that drives me to madness?
It is not that which pulls physically at my sides and no, it is not this hideous scar that I’d now forever have to look at.
Left me stained, I called it art…
Vivacious as I was; probably still am but these days I no longer see it.
I don’t see me.
Of all the Billions of beautiful hearts; mine shone the brightest but now I ask myself how can I see the rainbow when I’m too busy hiding from the rain?
I’m a slave to the mind games I play with myself.
Who am I today?
Who was I yesterday and who will I be? Of this; I am unsure.
I am tired of traveling through time.
Every lifetime feels the same.
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