And we are left these broken shells,
With some things inside but nothing well.
Praying for an emptiness,
These days I sit very still,
Afraid of making my insides rattle again
And to have my crux disemble as before it fell.
Pieces broken and pieces missing,
Can this mirror creature ever be whole again?
Wisps of a damaged soul can be felt.
No silken ribbons here, but only dying spells
Rotting away in some broken shells.
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