The speaker is looking back on the worst stretch of her life, which began when a man walked out and left her heartbroken. The opening lines are blunt and physical: pain that cuts, trouble breathing, a heart that shatters and hits the floor. She describes lying on the tile, filled with hatred and feeling "vile," while her thoughts race. At several points, she says, she wanted to die.
The turn comes with the mirror. Back then she couldn't see what was there, but now she realizes her children's faces were "hidden within" her own reflection, a reason to stay that she'd missed. Watching them grow, she tells herself to breathe and remember that they need her.
The mood moves from raw grief to quiet, hard-won gratitude. The simple rhymes and short lines give it a plainspoken, diary-like honesty. The last line redefines "wealth" as her kids rather than what she lost, which makes the ending feel earned and hopeful.