You stand in front of the mirror.
Looking at your distorted image.
Mascara ran down your face.
Tear tracks put in place.
And you can’t bare to see it.
You ball your hand in a fist.
And punch the reflection.
Shattering it.
Falling to your knees.
Glass cutting your legs.
You grab a sharp piece.
You drag it over your skin.
Across your wrist.
Creating a never disappearing scar.
You feel like you’ve hit your lowest point.
But you look up.
At the little piece of reflection.
That didn’t fall out of the frame.
You look at yourself.
At that little piece of glass.
And you realize.
It’s just a bump in the road.
This too shall pass.