Broken

Looking into the broken glass
I wonder if people are broken too?
How does a soul break?
How does one break?

Through the broken glass
I see the ladies who looked into it,
checked their rosy cheeks,
fixed their lips,
wiped their tears,
covered their scars.
Where they broke when they looked into it?

Through the broken glass
I see
shattered dreams,
hollow ambitions,
ruins of failure,
the darkness of loss
Is that why the glass broke?

Through the broken glass
I watch
the colour of abandonment,
tint of gloominess
hues of neglect,
shades of despair.
Wonder which broke first.
Was it the glass?
Or was it the reflection?