The mirror’s gone, the silver’s shed,
A thousand lives I might have led
Are lying silent at my feet,
Where bitter cold and concrete meet.
I tried to grip the passing years,
To dam the river of my fears,
But time is water, slick and fast,
And nothing holds, and nothing lasts.
Every promise, a pane of glass,
Watching the heavy shadows pass.....
I stepped too hard, the surface starred,
Now every inch of me is scarred.
I run until my lungs are thin,
But the memories always settle in.
They have no pulse, they have no name,
But they burn inside me just the same.
I’m just pieces on the floor,
A broken hinge, a shattered door.
I gave the world the best of me,
And kept the wreckage for the sea.
I reach for you when the house is still,
Against the grain, against my will.
The bed is wide, the air is gray,
And the "us" we were has slipped away.
The echoes start their nightly rounds,
The only familiar, hollow sounds.
A debt is owed, a price is set,
Paid in the currency of regret.
I carry the weight of the things I broke,
The jagged words I never spoke.
The heavy cost of being real,
Is the jagged edge of all I feel.
I’m fighting ghosts in every room,
In the velvet silence of the gloom.
Searching for a match to strike,
In a world that looks so ghost-like.
But fragments still can catch the light,
In the deepest hours of the night.
Though I’m in pieces on the ground,
I’m the only truth I’ve finally found.
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 7:21 PM UTC
The mirror’s gone, the silver’s shed,
A thousand lives I might have led
Are lying silent at my feet,
Where bitter cold and concrete meet.
I tried to grip the passing years,
To dam the river of my fears,
But time is water, slick and fast,
And nothing holds, and nothing lasts.
Every promise, a pane of glass,
Watching the heavy shadows pass.....
I stepped too hard, the surface starred,
Now every inch of me is scarred.
I run until my lungs are thin,
But the memories always settle in.
They have no pulse, they have no name,
But they burn inside me just the same.
I’m just pieces on the floor,
A broken hinge, a shattered door.
I gave the world the best of me,
And kept the wreckage for the sea.
I reach for you when the house is still,
Against the grain, against my will.
The bed is wide, the air is gray,
And the "us" we were has slipped away.
The echoes start their nightly rounds,
The only familiar, hollow sounds.
A debt is owed, a price is set,
Paid in the currency of regret.
I carry the weight of the things I broke,
The jagged words I never spoke.
The heavy cost of being real,
Is the jagged edge of all I feel.
I’m fighting ghosts in every room,
In the velvet silence of the gloom.
Searching for a match to strike,
In a world that looks so ghost-like.
But fragments still can catch the light,
In the deepest hours of the night.
Though I’m in pieces on the ground,
I’m the only truth I’ve finally found.
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
