I saw you in my reflection today, Your
hands reached out to me and I touched you but, It
was just my hands and I was quite
surprised at the fact of how old and
pruned they had become with
time ticking the clock beats
down on me like the chime of a death march
drum sentencing me to a fiery death on a wood
pole dancing in the moonlight, my ass glowing brighter than the
moon reflecting on the lake, almost giving ripples on the water from its sheer
power hungry CEO's telling me, the measly mail clerk, to give them the fucking morning
paper scattered around my room, crumpled in corners of each letter I never
sent screaming down hallways that day, my teacher didn't
*understand how the moon works love? Look at the spell it
casts* on her arm, I feel guilt but cannot put my tongue around the cause of
*it could have been you holding me tonight, but instead I will fuck a
stranger* in the mirror, *who could it be? If it isn't me and it isn't
you* thought you could get away with this, didn't you? Well look at me
now: I am the one that is
sane and you are the one that is all
bloody and trapped in a mirror with a knife in your hand.
YES you are the
killer.