I look myself every single day
in a cracked mirror,
desperately trying to find
a definite answer–
the unknown purpose
for my sole existence.

I cut my long fingers badly
while picking up carelessly
the shattered pieces of broken glass,
knocked out of the wooden frame
in my real-time imagination
with an unwanted realisation
of the ugly past.

Rinsing gently the bleeding wounds
with clean cotton ball and stinging iodine,
it painstakingly burns;
when my closed eyes open wide,
everything turns out to be fine.

Carefully I rise up
from the creaking plank bed;
while my younger little brother mischievously narrates–
the horrific screams
in my deep slumber,
that I have made.