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I stare at the object before me. They told me it was called a mirror. I didn’t understand why at first— but now, I can see it. The mirror cracked, yet it still remembered my face. Shards fell to the ground, each carrying one of my ghosts. Some were sharp and jagged, others smooth and clean, but all stared back at me with the same purpose— to tear me down. I didn’t want to look, yet my gaze remained fixed. My body refused to obey. Cold, trembling hands reached for one of the sharp shards. It moved along my skin, a crimson red following in its wake. My head throbbed. My hands ached. Still, my body kept going. It painted every shard in crimson, until I was left in a world of broken glass.
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Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 8:07 AM UTC
Melancholic beauty
I stare at the object before me. They told me it was called a mirror. I didn’t understand why at first— but now, I can see it. The mirror cracked, yet it still remembered my face. Shards fell to the ground, each carrying one of my ghosts. Some were sharp and jagged, others smooth and clean, but all stared back at me with the same purpose— to tear me down. I didn’t want to look, yet my gaze remained fixed. My body refused to obey. Cold, trembling hands reached for one of the sharp shards. It moved along my skin, a crimson red following in its wake. My head throbbed. My hands ached. Still, my body kept going. It painted every shard in crimson, until I was left in a world of broken glass.
Sorrowful_vow
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Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 8:07 AM UTC
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