The Glass

It’s at fault for being clean
That you bumped onto the screen
It’s at fault for being dirty
That your vision is all blurry

It’s wrong for being clear
That you’re exposed to sunray’s smear
It’s wrong for being dark
That you’re imprisoned from the spark

Its silence is arrogance
On chandelier, pretending its elegance
Its clatter is noise
Attention seeking with its voice

The glass is a mirror
That you stared, like a decipherer
Searching for betterment in your reflection
Then walked away with physical deception

Her real self is beyond your view
And you hated her for being true
Repairing self isn’t a small task
What more when your smile is a stranger’s mask

Scars and bruises for all the sorrows
How deep it affects, nobody knows
When the past is the present talk
It may be paralyzing, she’ll continue to walk

Your suffer is her fault
Her presence is an assault
The glass will still scorch to your eye
It’ll never shatter, she says goodbye


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