Transformation

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I look at the clock,
It is a quarter until my doom
What has become of my life?
I look at the sweater my mother knitted for me,
On my two-faced body
I can feel my blood turn thin and cold by the second
In this dark room only illuminated by a lamp,
My fate is soon to turn.
Suddenly, it happens.
My skin turning pale as the moon
I hold onto my work desk
Then collapse onto my cold, helpless floor.
Trapped, terrified, it is transformation time
I look into the ageless mirror's reflection
I see what has been lurking inside me
A repulsive, unwanted, altered monster
What has become of me?
If I have learned a valuable lesson in life,
It is change is inevitable
What would my mother think of me now?





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