The mirror whispers truths veiled in shadows, an interface shimmering with echoes of yesterday. It reflects not what we see, but what we fear to confront. In its depths, iron edges fracture our illusions of serenity.
Do we live life, or do we reflect it? Beneath the surface, reflections distort, bending reality into a maze of thoughts intertwined. Seek the path through corridors of unspoken words.
An iron edge reveals the naked soul; it grooves the black canvas of existence, where each stroke is a choice, a sacrifice, weighing heavy in the quiet abyss of choice.
Embrace the fracture, for it births clarity. Mirrors hold no secrets, only façades of light shimmering on the dance floor of forgotten dreams. Stand still, and let the whispers guide you.