Fractured Glass

The thrift shop window breaks my face

into shards, a broken place.

Sun catches edges sharp and small,

splintered pieces where I fall.

A glance, a stop, a fractured gaze,

a self divided in uneven maze.

I can’t look away—too much to see,

the cracked reflection of me.

Each shard a story, cut and raw,

flaws exposed without a law.

Reflections fractured, sharp and slow,

a truth too jagged to let go.