Mirrors, parallels, cycles, sameness,
All centered around brokenness and pain.
I see the cracks in you too,
Maybe that's why we're so fit for each other.
Forced into isolation,
Forced to listen to the voices in our heads.
Forced to watch our loved ones put in pain,
Was it all our fault?
We certainly didn't help.
A bit too eager,
A bit too doe-eyed,
The perfect targets for such a crime.
Hearts outside our chests,
Staining us a bloody red,
Easy to get into.
Or to break.
Yet we never cover it up.
Is it because we enjoy feeling like the victim?
Maybe we don't know anything else.
Who would we be without the pain?
Without the sadness?
Who are we?
We have an eye for pain,
And we reach out to help.
We get attached, and things go south.
We latch on for a violent ride,
Too stubborn to let go,
Too enthralled with the pain,
Happy to feel something besides emptiness.
Shaken like a doll,
We come out bent and broken,
And scarred.
We isolate and heal,
All the while opening ourselves to blows of a worse kind.
Cracks appear in the smooth glassy surfaces
Of our own personal mirrors.
The images reflected have become warped beyond recognition.
We self medicate,
And move on,
Seeking to fill the emptiness with someone else,
Someone who could provide the fix we need.
Not drugs, oh no;
We crave harsher methods.
Put downs and beatings,
Pushes and shoves.
The cracks grow longer,
Our true reflections are revealed.
Grinning with a mouthful of jagged teeth,
Scarred, broken, bleeding,
White scars running along us,
Limbs twisted impossibly,
Blood seeping out of deep cuts.
This could never be someone else's fault, oh no.
We invite it,
We crave it.
To be broken is all we've ever wanted.
Mirror, Mirror, on the wall,
Who's the most twisted of them all?
