Blinded from my own reflection off a cracked mirror, Tricked into believing that it was a one sided horror. Yet as I came closer to the crack upon this mirror, The truth was way beyond my line of terror.
Fooled into believing that the world would be better, That the coming days would contain tears less wetter. I was frustrated to bear witness of the disgust that would come, Contaminating the grounds so that we may all walk much sadder.
I asked to be handed what would necessarily be needed, I was informed of a false successor who would later be succeeded. And when this I was told they instantly had my legs and arms chained, Drugged my mind to assure that my future would be defeated.
Denied my rights to a life of riches and starkly glow, I became teary as I watched the fate of my people dreadfully show. Still the image of that wholesome white rose in my mind so beautifully blows, Assuring my drips of hurt that a higher force watches and knows.
Reminiscing of the past of all good days, Images of when the sun delivered the best of all rays. I screamed internally to be heard by the spirits who near the heavens lay, Desperately pleading that a verdict be sought for all creatures who wrongfully play.
Whenever I think of the days when the nights and noon lights were of good joy, A piercing pain pins through my chest and into my heart’s veins. Overwhelmed with such pain and torture from all coming angles, Abandoned in an outside cage while it thunderously rains.
I was left with no choice but to turn in my dues, My tongue bitten gently just enough to cause a stutter when I sing the blues. I boldly slit my wrist so that all pain may visibly escape. And then I be drenched in blood as my own body I would sadly rape.
My final wish would be a prayer to be said and heard by all, A harp played to ensure that all’s miseries and sorrow beautifully fall. While weeping angels overhead collaborate with my heavy dripping tears, The sounds tuning from my eyes and tongue towards my deprived frustrated peers.
An extreme description given of the occurrences of the last scene, Leaves me to wonder where within my years evaporated the dream. My palms remain open, held high towards the gray sky, Looking back at the reflection on this cracked mirror, I ask “why?”
---S.B. ice
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