Tangles of the Mind

shards of reflective glass

people feel they have a right, a right to me.

i'm used as a tool, the easy way to corrupt my own soul.

they take things from me, time and time again, begging for my mercy once their intentions have been revealed.

do i give it to them?

but of course; i am weak after all.

but not this time.

this time, i won't allow forgiveness; things can only take so much before they break.

my mirror knows that all too well.