Leaden clouds sweep swiftly in from the north,  
Blanketing the sapphire skies in melancholy.  
Deafening, rolling thunder cracks  
As a mysterious chill sends a shudder up my spine.  

A faint knock rasps at my front door;  
Whispers circulate, ringing through my walls,  
Echoing my name ever so sinisterly.  

For twenty and twenty years, I have been happily discontent,  
Freezing my sins in lovely seclusion.  
Now, a dank darkness drapes this dilapidated sanctuary.  

Peering out the curtains, I see death's arrival—  
Ruby red roses in my formerly lush garden  
Crumbling to ash, fading into the earth.  

Elongated fingers peek through the dubious haze.  
A cackling booms.  

To my right stands an ornate Victorian mirror.  
Turning my head, I can see the flames of Hell rage.  
What was once just a plane of glass  
Has now become a beckoning portal.  

Without hesitation, I rip it off the wall,  
Smashing the omen, trying to escape an unfathomable fate.  
Within seconds, it's fully reconstructed,  
Signaling there is no reprieve.