Conversation With A Mirror

October 9, 2012
There’s more misery in your walk than most
So tell me what’s left when you’re engorged with the Host

I was supposed to ask you…
I remember that much

Those crystals in your fingers must hurt a ton
Why not shatter them all and be done?

How rude of me.
I never meant to stare

You change so much for people who look like God
Their tonsils are like grenades against your façade

I don’t intend to sound judgmental
I’m just trying to understand why I’m here

I can’t tell if I’m meant to repair you, you see,
Or if your destruction is why you summoned me

This would be so much easier if you’d just talk
How am I supposed to know what’s right?

The cracks already on your surface mock memory
And your mouth tastes like tangled allegory

It’s clear you’ve mixed too many metaphors
Haven’t you been warned about that?

It’s criminal, how you’re kept from the light
Yet something behind your vacant stare suggests it may be right

After all, I barely know you
The signs did imply danger….

Yes, now that I look closer, you must be a wicked beast
Certainly you are without hope, at least

Now you’re crying…
Am I supposed to pity you?

There is very little I can do besides
I’ve never known where the Devil resides

So I don’t know what I may cause
You silence is a string of lies

Your suffering, I’m sure now, is all contrived
But it seems your lucky day’s arrived

I may as well indulge you
What business is it of mine to scold?

So I’ll shatter you, I guess it’s for the best
Your eyes look tired. Get some rest

I won’t call you a prince
You are wonted, but never wanted

It will be my fault as well, I’m sure
If your end is not, in fact, the cure

Of course, it’s only an escape, really
And everyone’s to blame but you

Silence the voice inside my head
I didn’t set out to leave you dead

I only wanted to help
Please believe me… redeem me

This marks the end of my patience and your station
Your suffering ends in tintinnabulation

“Better to not exist” you finally whisper
“Than be a burden. Or worse, a liar.”

Your parting poetry only serves to confound
A puzzle made of sharp, shimmering sound

Why are you talking now?
This must be Hell, then.

“I have waited for years for you to grow
And finally, you’re allowed to know…”

Am I expected to listen?
I never know what to do in here…

“You made me in the lines you drew
And fed me as your anger grew…”

More senseless poetry
When will you get to the point?

“My greatest thanks to you who killed me
Know that I am who you used to be.”

What is that supposed to mean?
Am I supposed to believe…

But you did look familiar, after all
Was it my reflection against the wall?

I can’t bring myself to look down at the shards
I’ll just count myself lucky it’s over

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