Caressing all the seven cracks on the unpolished surface of the shinning mirror,
Growing with me and my deeds.
My fingers reached out for the white pearl at the bottomless top of the bygone vintage .
But all, my fingers could embrace was dust of oblivion , requesting to be known.
My fingers bathed in the blood of all my sinful deeds, adorned the broken edges with the color of my futile eminence.
My flamboyant touch on my glacial self, reminded me of myself, the untold self.
Once the touch which was youthful, turned cold with the tocks.
All the touch of decency are now the tales of my unbreakable past, which broke my fragile present.
Now All I am left with are some mere cracks of negligence, courtesy of the dishonored pebbles.
I picked a broken glass shard and whispered my enchantments of retaliation.
“What part of me are you ?
Are you me or am I you ?
Are you my broken self , or am I your few remaining intact pieces ?”
In the name of justice, I graced the mirror with seven new remarks .
I proved my failure by an attempt to undo the what was wrong.
But all I just did was deepen the scars of what can’t be undone.