True

its-not-stained-glass-sunsets-reflected-in-broken-mirror-1.jpg

False.
Well? I have never been well, nor have I ever mended myself from the bruises of yesterday.
Strong? I have never been strong, nor have I ever been brave enough to face the sun with a daunting heart.
Sane? I have never labeled myself with that word, nor have I ever shown a hint of stability to the light of this world.

Collapsing… under… falling… fearfully.

True? Very, very dreadfully true this all is, for whatever they mistaken for a complete image is merely a chipped window, broken forcefully in desire of gold and riches alike.

Now, now, you may think that wherever I’m headed is a desolate place. That, I can confirm, is utterly wrong. whatever misery you expect won’t be given glory to.

Did I not say that the beautiful sight they observe is just broken glass? Well, they saw an illusion. Yet I know you won’t fall under such a hastily woven trick of the light.
Tricks? Illusions? Lies? They never fooled you, for what have they to gain? You were always wiser than the rest. You have always seen through mirrored walls. You have always navigated perfectly through thick fog.

I can tell you, right here, exactly now, that you SAW me. You did not abandon me, you did not walk away. You just stilled yourself, right beside me.
Either you were that moonlight that passed my seared and messy edges, making my shards glimmer in pitch sorrow. You made me… a beautiful mess.
Or you were another shattered figure who danced with my sharp and cracking pieces, forming our fragments into a masterpiece. You completed me… while falling apart.

 

Did I not claim that I was neither well, nor strong, nor sane? Well, I still am not. But I am broken, afraid and mad with you…
Or, for you…
Or, because of you.

Whatever we are, or this it…
it is true.

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