Curse (Title)

How many years of bad luck follow
when the mirror shatters me?

When the image that's reflected
shows all that I've neglected
as I burned the soul of youth
'til nothing's left but truth
to tell it's one pathetic story
in full sadistic withered glory.

I've traveled light but never traveled far
felt the cold steel of a pistol and a prison bar
seen so much smoke just drift away,
been left for dead right where I lay
never learned to think or to cry
just kept chasing that damned high.

By all rights I should be long since gone
but now they tell me life goes on
Yet in this mirror I just can't see
either who I was or who I want to be.
How many years of bad luck follow
when the mirror shatters me?