Edges Razor Sharp

To the mirror she stands in front of the reflection.
Of things that once were.
Of another time.

She stares and wonders the reason why.
Why that other time has been reduced
to a mirror of memories that past.
The answer is right there,
yet still out of her reach as that mirror breaks,
and shatters to pieces that could very well be fixed.

Though attempts to do that are hard because the edges are sharp like razors.
No matter how hard she tries the mirror with the answer
won't be put back together.

Because of the mistakes that cause wounds,
and because more mistakes cause wounds to get deeper.
More lies being told, more screaming doesn't offer help.
For all they do is cause her to grip tighter on pieces edged like razors.

So a way to the answer has become unknown.
And the closest she'll ever get to it are
those glass shards pressed tight
while she chokes down the river of a thousand tears.