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Hailstorm
1 November 2025
I was struck seven times.
And each time I withheld my tongue.
I clenched my fist, yet kept it mine,
Not used against the face of the erred young.
Broken Mirror
1 November 2025
You thought breaking the mirror
So you couldn't see yourself
Would erase the guilt from your eyes.
But the shattered glass fell
In the shape of a broken heart,
And you stare at your reflection
Without affection.
Your eyes shine in shards seven more times.