It's shattered.
But it resembles me this way.
Though the frame is beautiful,
It now has no capacity to recreate the faces.
The beautiful smiles that would bend over it.
The mirror is now a burden.
Perhaps something much more horror.
The broken images it creates,
That's exactly how I feel now.
I can no more reflect the love I get.
What should I call myself?
Am I really broken?
YOU ARE READING
There Was A Feeling
PoetryWhile so many things could've changed, I wanted to decide I'll always be the same. But why is it so difficult? ------- This book is the poetry book with poetries highlighting topics anxiety, depression, self-doubt, heartbreak and many more such fee...
