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by Koki
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #1683602
A prose poem I wrote for my poetry class
Staring at the sharp pieces beneath my feet, the mirror stares back. My feet bare and bloodied, crunching as I walk. The glass turns to bones, still crunching, crunching, crunching. The incessant noise, the insanity of it all, no peace and no sense of self, a ghost walking through life. The mirror shattered when my mind did, never again will they be pieced together. I walk on.
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