On the edge of becoming whole again, the reflection across the pool, now seems so far away. Hidden behind a wall, built with bricks of oblivion to the pain that reopened my scars, and held togther with the morar of hollow words.
A rebutal in place of remorse. A reaction to words I've not spoken seems to have put a plan in motion, and another brick between. After solutions manifest, continuing to observe and analyze, instead of just living and letting time mend.
Healing slows while responding seems futile, and far beyond the reach of my battered brain. As the reflection grieves the spirt again, strength seeps from me as the reflection fades. Without considering the cost, the oblivious don't realize what they've lost.
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