It lands on my forehead, the crack in the mirror
As it tells me something I knew already
And it continues to break down its long borders
Splitting me into pieces
I move away from the mirror
For I know my luck will turn to the worst
Seven years will be too long for any good news
I want to get rid of that
However, some sentimental reason compels me to hold on
Maybe, I am being foolish
And nothing will happen
But I am not willing to find out
The day has begun to ssep into night
And I hear shattering glass tumbling down to the floor
The silence is lurking something wicked
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It is rather uncomfortable to brake a mirror. I just checked and read that: 1. You can make it into powder, 2. Toss the pieces into a south running stream. 3. Bury the broken glass.
I didn’t know all of this, in the past I’ve just thrown the pieces in the trash. Good luck to you!