The mirror reflected an image.
Is that really me? Is that who I am suppose to be?
Scars running down her face, into her heart.
She was not the same anymore, something had changed.
Was it for good or bad, no one knew... not even herself.
Everywhere she looked, she saw her bloodshed
Every field she walked by was no less
No shoulders to rest on, no tears to shed.
Just a long, windy pathway ahead.
Who am I? She asked herself.
No one answered but just the bloodshed.
