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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Sound of Fury

What is that noise,
A ticking, amplified in my mind,
Far from sight is the source
Of such torture and misery,
It won’t let me rest as it blares it’s echo
Like steel scraping iron, to tell me
It’s grievances against me, in such rage
That I run, fearful of it’s poison,
A scorpion dancing, on open nerves,
Feeding it’s pulsating rock further in,
The sound of it’s legs become rapid
And fierce, like the charge of Vikings,
More and more enter the blitzkrieg
Crushing the ground beneath
Their bloody boots, until,
This feeble mind suffocates under the wave
Of fury, unable to withstand it,
Buried under the fall of its walls,
Within the rubble, is the dormant mind
That could not bear the sound
Shattering the castle, from within.

©DorianPoe2016