This mirror is too long
It stretches hundreds of miles
And every night before I shower
I catch a glimpse of my mother
She looks just like she did
When I was little and she still loved me
And we bathed together
So she could help me wash my hair
And I wonder
Why I was even born
If there was always just going to be
Two of her
And none of me
YOU ARE READING
Bad Poetry Dump 3096
PoesieThings got bad again and I'm coping. Bad art is still worthy it if it helps me.
