Friday, July 17, 2009

It's just one of those days.

The mirror reflects, and he doesn't like what's staring back.
Eyes that pierce the sky with hatred break the glass.
His arms are covered in deep lacerations and wounds,
wounds that won't be healed with time.
The mirror taunted him, showing what he had become.
Profanaties circle the air as he trashes the room,
His fist meets the wall in angry circumstances.


As the broken mirror is scattered over the floor he now realises,
that this so called life is no longer his to live.
His wrists are slit, and into a sinking certainty he spirals.
Death now lingers for he who was deaths child.

The mirror reflected, and he didn't like what stared back.



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