Crestfallen

The problem is I’m bleeding—

down my face its smeared.

My eyes are blackened

cradling dots of white.

My skin is crumbling

away

to ashes falling.

 

This mirror behind me

sees me dying

and yet

reflects

the face of joy.

Crying is the reflection

bleeding in smears

of trickling tears.

Fearing the day

the body will crumble,

Fearing the night

the light will stumble.

 

Red splattered dots of pain

slain from my brain

thoughts unpattern.

A searing perception

to weak

to fear

and eyes

to dark—

to mirror.

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2 responses to “Crestfallen

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