The Lost Reflection

I tied myself, to the back of the trigger, 

Wavering on the tip of the needle, trying

My hardest, not to collapse into the missing 

Mirror, the image hiding behind the corner,

Frozen in silence within the red, staring

At what used to encompass a serenity of sight, 

Its brilliance, muffled by an overshadow

Cast by this now open cavern, leading down

Into the further, until what was above, 

Now births into the below, struggling in limits 

Of Sanity before it crumbles, toppling over me,

The pronounced psychosis dominating over 

A hushed breeze from the serene, of a passing

Butterfly, crushed under the weight

Of the tempered hammer, staining the soft lull,

Ravenous rage, blurring and diluting my vision

In front of the overseeing full moon I transform

Beyond the recognizable, and howl back

At the mocking night, who I trust no more,

Words that I can’t take back now, 

I can’t bare to look at my own reflection.

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