In a white house, on Prosperity St. there is a white room. In that room is a mirror And as I stand before it I see the real me. Staring into my reflection is like looking into a Black Abyss. Everything is shrouded, and I began to detect hidden truths AAAAAAAAAAAAA It burns, to not know the real me. I was once told that I was CURSED I can see that now. So this is my story. The looking glass, a proud girl dressed as a woman, and eyes that cry blood, weeping for the inconsistency within my heart and the knowledge that I don�t have what I thought to, and I can�t be what I would. I wonder what I have become, when I wasn�t looking�. The room is no longer white, but dismal gray. I have begun to realize that My nose is Broken because the pride that I have adapted, it knows no bounds. I am muzzled by it, slowly choking behind a complex veneer. Fear consumes me on every level, causing me to be a callous, unloving entity, no longer worthy of my station. And I have begun to die. The Lord Giveth Blessed Be HIS Name |
| Broken |