Lacking in what was sought
I drown its sorrows, within my tears
Wrapping a cocoon around its broken heart
Stabbing the knife in its back into my fears.

I lick the salty liquid running down my upper lip
I stand up; I walk, heading for the door
Holding on to its broken heart with a tight grip
I turn my head, look back at the one it once adored

Forgiveness is its virtue
Forgiving, not forgetting the pain in which it has endured.
Promising the soul within myself that it would never hurt you.
Making sure its heart and souls lies are reassured.
I stare back at its resentful past,
Repenting as I look through the looking glass.