In the fractured mirror
a reflection stares back at me.
Somehow, it all seems clearer
peering at myself through the shattered pieces
of glass.
The cracks tell a story upon the surface
of what was once seamless, elegant, and could never lie about the imperfections
Scattered across my epidermis.
The mirror, my only truth in a world of lies,
committed to its vow of honesty
now lays here, broken
And next to it: my sanity.
For it’s these inane ideas
that keep me up at night.
It’s hazardous, I must warn you,
to all in this fight against my mind
as feelings fester and fill my heart
like a famine and I can’t find
a way to halt its growth.
A question.
I’ve lost control
A question.
In my mind, the obscurities roll.
A question.
On the glass, the rock took its toll.
A question:
What happens when the fractures mirror in front of me
reflects my shattered soul?
A delicate dandelion dead.
I don’t remember how to breathe
anymore.