Screams of insanity pierced his mind,
And rivets through his body.
The handgun, which he held with a death grip, Found the floor.
The mirror.
Did not reflect him.
It showed the chairs, tables, even the gun.
But the person who stood inches away,
Could not be seen.

Panic and uncertainty moved him.
He needed to flee.
He wanted to flee.
To escape this hellhole called home.
Without realization, he picked up the rose he loathed.
Grabbed his spring coat and fled.
He wanted to know.
He needed to know.

The screams of insanity still raged in him.