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I frown upon my reflection,
its shadow cast upon the floor.
The surrounding whisper of an unstable mind…
wakes me from my slumber.
And when I turn from the mirror,
I fall to my knees, lost.

My fractured fingers grip the carpet,
and my head strikes the ground.
A stone replica of myself I am.
A heavy memory of my past I am.
I've heard my conscience, and ignored its cry.
Now I cannot cry. Now I cannot mourn.
©2009 ~mentalover
:iconmentalover:

Author's Comments

a statue forgotten by society and left to erode alone... breaking from the pressure of regret.

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November 4
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