MIRROR IN MISERY

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I wonder what it's like,

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I wonder what it's like,

Being the mirror at your place, Unable to grant you solace, As you look into me every night, Loathing your reflection in sight.

To only silently digest the pain, And to hope in vain,

That someday, I shall gift you my sight and steal your speech, So you could truly see your charm.

Is the worst form of dreary, Being a Mirror in Misery?



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