The Murderer
He stared into the mirror
His mind was set.
He had no fear
Life was his pet.
Everything in grasp,
He could see his reflection
The man of his past
He had good complexion
He whistled As time reflected
Something had changed
Nothing was able to be recollected,
something that wasn't there came
He squinted, a stain
A smudge he thought
No it was A crack in the glass
It had started to rot
As he watched through a blur
He wasn't the same
He couldn't remember his name
When he spoke it was in a slur
His physique had changed
His skin tattered, wrinkled
His face was tired, aged
Eyes swollen and back Bent
When he screamed his voice was a gurgle, a bubbly screech
What he had become...
He stared back into his reflection
It had a Smirk on its face
Laughing at him, he couldnt retrace,
A fog had covered up his eyes,
was it smoke, blackness?
No it was heavier, ash, he was suffocating
he couldn't see through these lies
He coughed, his insides were twisted,
From clenching his teeth to long
He could still feel the ice cold burn,
Something had stuck him,
Through the blur he could not see,
Only a shadow, a mutated figure
As he felt the object behind the fog,
He realized they were his hands,
Holding the silver of a blade,
Melting into the sticky warmth of his blood
Confused he blinked, trying to push these hallucinations away,
warmth came out of his mouth,
he was throwing up
He squinted, He let the darkness into his eyes for a moment,
But nothing had changed,
he was living this dream.
His insides dissolved as he stayed blind, he was drowning in panic.
His eyes burned, skin stretched, they opened, and finally he could see,
He looked at the mirror at last,
He looked at the ground, the dust,
But he saw fear, broken glass,
Scattered, all trickled in blood