Shattered Form

In the fragmented mirror, a figure stands, A dance of shards, a beauty planned. The red glow whispers secrets untold, As darkness seeps, the light grows old. The splintered glass, a maze of pain, Reflects the soul, in shards of stain. Yet, in the ruin, a form divine, Emerges, reborn, in splintered lines. The artist's hand, a story weaves, Of brokenness, and beauty that grieves. In every crack, a tale is spun, Of resilience, where darkness is undone. The figure stands, amidst the decay, A testament to life's unyielding way. To rise, to heal, to shatter and mend, The cycle of life, where art and pain blend.