There is no might in the rooms I walk in. Only dust, hopes that are buried deep to keep them hidden from the world, so no one could ever trust so blindly to something so fragile. Somehow it doesn't feel like burden to me, it feels comforting to see how it all fades away.
I used to believe aswell. It was ripped from my hands, there were blood and breaking glass. Mirrors that broke on so many pieces that you are not sure what your own reflection looks like. It mirrored pieces of me that I didn't want to see, I kept looking. Until I looked everywhere else, seeing how the broken mirror reflected into the floor and walls. Making them feel like something else. Touched by something...more. How the blood marked the room, adding deep color to the places where it shouldn't be.
The thing is...I enjoyed the darkness. It didn't swallow me the same as it had done to so many others in this world. I accepted it in a way that it was part of me, I became the mirror to others so I could show them that there is more after breaking in pieces.
It wasn't my choice to be broken.
But it was a choice to never let anyone else bleed because of my sharp edges.
