Book of life

In front of the mirror she stood in awe
Admiring the landscape of scars and all the things she saw
In front of her was a book with no title
No cover page, no fancy words, simply a breaker of a vicious cycle
She was the testimony to a life of strife
Of efforts spent, blood spilled, broken ties and a fulfilling life
The book was full to the brim with words said and hidden
Of lives lived and dreamt of, and even the dreams unwritten
Yet the book had no end
No start and no middle, just words of pretend
The mirror started to go blurry the deeper she looked
Flakes of dirt, vison hazy, she was eternally hooked