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My feet on the cracked floor
colder then the winter shore,
and my hands on the fragile mirror,
trembling full of doubt;
Then the mirror breaks, the glass screams and the glass shouts
that my poor body is flawed.
Flawed like my aching heart since the beginning of the record.
Like my mind that is taintedÂ
irreparable is the damage it painted,
on my small cracked limbs.
But it doesn't affect me, as he and i both agree
while smiling under the thunderstorm
they are what make me beautiful.
A.
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