She is stark in contrast to the mirror image appearing before her very eyes. There is a rampant fire burning inside the soul of the woman in the glasslike structure. It is a rage causing a shattering effect where her world crumbles piece by tormented piece, as fear overwhelms her entire being. Her heart is gripped by anxiety, as she raises her hand, putting it against her chin, while gazing at her broken reflection, waiting for her shaky breathing to subside. For there is a storm brewing inside, not knowing how to extract the meaning to all the fire corrupting an innocent woman who walked down the river of darkness one night when all hope was lost to the sewers.
She is shaken by the vandalism going on in the streets, where the people there have shattered minds, and sleep on the ground festered with urine and feces, with nothing to cover them but an old grubby newspaper to warm their shivering hearts.
The woman questions her own existence, not knowing where her next meal will come from. She ran away from a troubled life at home where violence consumed it with the rampage of her tyrant father, who left her family in shambles.
No longer able to withstand the beatings from his hands, she took to the night, embracing the chill it offered her soul.
Stricken by her own fear, she sits on the cold cement, leaning against a run down building in an alley where there is nothing to warm her but her own reflection gazing back at her while peering into the mirrors of her past.
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015