Reflection | |
Is but a stranger | |
These strings set rigorous routine | |
Cracks form, covering my body | |
Weakened, blistered and torn apart | |
Revisiting old wounds | |
Completing the circle | |
Once again | |
Swollen eyes fixed on the prize | |
We hang our heads in self-destructive triumph | |
These fault lines | |
A soul erosion | |
Predictions never became so clear |