The claws imbued their pointy fingers in my chest
Lingering agony as it did not soften
As I attempted to defy the abomination
A figment I realised
In front of me
I wince and whimper but moans so mellow
Are not heard on the surface
Are not heard by the ears of man
Fragments spread as the glass shatters
As the reflection and I turn to dust
Yet the claws remained stoic in its grasp
A figment I realised
In front of me
I yield as I pour out my soul in front of them
Its transparent body is tainted and distorted
It is stained in dark crimson around the neck
These claws have lunged at my throat for ages
I merely embraced them as an old friend