The mirror is shattered.
So without any reflection on the misuse of this image,
The shards will be incarnadine.
The bleeding will ne'er end.
It drips drops of thick sick thoughts,
Smothering the scattered shards.
A sight bred for horror.
Speckled endlessly, sorting sorrows
Into uniquely spattered shards.
The fulmination of self-imitation.
No longer are little words taken lightly.
You are now obscure shards.
I, too, once saw clearly.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
The mirror is shattered.
So without any reflection on the misuse of this image,
The shards will be incarnadine.
The bleeding will ne'er end.
It drips drops of thick sick thoughts,
Smothering the scattered shards.
A sight bred for horror.
Speckled endlessly, sorting sorrows
Into uniquely spattered shards.
The fulmination of self-imitation.
No longer are little words taken lightly.
You are now obscure shards.
I, too, once saw clearly.
Mirrors are often (overly) used as metaphors, similes, and symbols- what was set out to satirize and comment on the over use of the mirror imagery became one of my most cherished poems. Even though this was written awhile ago, I haven't published it until now and can only hope that the meaning comes across. But for you - poets of the mirror image - enjoy.
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