Self-Reflection

Her tears are squandered waters, like blood shed from an innocent man. If misery was to be defined It would be her bareness covered with garments. She fantasizes in colors But her realities are in black and white As if to say her existence is tedious. She adjured the heavens to eradicate her For she was worn out from breathing unfiltered air. It came over her, like a woman enthralled by a thousand demons. She would grip her lips In order to keep her sanity. And when she least anticipated she would fall down on her knees with blood gushing from her mouth. She glanced at the mirror And at that moment, she realized she was her own executor.