There is an object that rarely goes unseen 

Lingering eyes are drawn to it 

Judgements and self thoughts are reflected  

My mind receives faulted messages when taken a glance 

Twists and turns the sights into make believe 

Unable to distinguish truth from fiction 

Who is looking back at me in the shattered glass?

A girl?

A student? 

Or simply someone broken 

The shattered missing pieces are now scattered 

Dusted away months ago 

But there comes a time when one must glue back the pieces 

One by one 

Piece by piece 

Until finally restored to the elegant glass that once was