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By Daisy Sanchez

Reflections bend and break Our characters like brittle Fractures up along our spines The lines under our eyes form caves Held by holes the color of charcoal The light isn’t right It’s getting refracted by the glass The picture is morphed before it returns to my eyes And it is breaking me The holes above my cheeks like bottomless pits The terrain of my chin like a neglected garden The bends of my nose like a narrow, winding road And it is breaking me The mirror is breaking me While the mirror’s the thing I wish would break


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