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