In front of a mirror
I sit practicing my smile.
I hope to duplicate the twinkle
of the picture into my own eyes.
Fake smiles fade into pouted
lips, and not the ones found sexy,
but pitiful and remorseful.
I'm a stone statue, with a hardened
look plastered on my face.
It is now that I want
to shatter the mirror,
no matter how many years
of bad luck it brings.
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