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Train wreck
what a sight to see
the gazing unfocused eyes
upon the glinting glass
the words that floated
as if poison in the night
unclear, disastrous
most of all, uncaring
about the perceptions of others
strangers and known alike
what would they know
how it feels
to see not a reflection in mirror anymore
but a hollow set of eyes, asking
where is my soul?
What would they know
of how many countless nights have left
taking a piece of her
vicious, as if a token to remind
how it had felt to pry open a life
unhinged, disowned
dead inside
from the moments of life
that took and took
but never gave.
What would they know
what it means to die inside
with a wish for a life,
any life but this.
She’d sold her soul
to the devil prowling the night.
What would they know
of her life.