It’s strange when I look in the mirror, naked, and see myself as nobody else ever can.
The scars that only torture my eyes, the memories that shall only ever play in my head.
The cuts that I created, the places I burnt my soul.
The places I let you touch me, the parts of me I bared to you.
The hands that held yours as I let you ruin me. The hands that now ruin others.
What goes around comes around. But can life read it backwards?
Is the string still the same if viewed from the other end?
Time must have felt in my soul, the whispers of actions yet undone..
And so brought me to you.
Perhaps punishment comes before deed sometimes, if so Fate commands.
How else do I justify what was done to me?
How else do I learn to deserve it?
How else do I make peace with it,
If I do not accept the reversibility of karma?