A canvas of solitude

Each cut carries a story,
A tale of loneliness and despair.
Faced in the mirror it flashes the guilt,
The memory of mistakes.
But hope,
A treacherous companion,
Leaves me still standing,
Now watching it whispers,
Memento mori.

Fragile things we are,
And broken mind still repairs,
Now I remember,
My mortality,
My mistakes,
My hope…

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