On a night where no moon shines,
I lie and brood in my confines,
Nocturne's wolf has come to dine,
Gnashing canines with sharpened claws,
Over is night--devoured by the maw,
The wolf opens wide, an unhinged jaw,
I stare in awe, in saccharine fear,
A beastly roar is all I can hear,
Yet I feel no pain--Only a lonesome tear.
I open my eyes to a room bathed in black,
On the floor is a woman, in a dress of lilac,
She stands with a shiver, and turns me her back,
Dark hair covers cracked skin--porcelain but soft,
She stared at me gravely, shaking oft,
Then slowly she danced as I sat and watched,
She twirled, pranced, and spun, but once she botched,
Then she sat, knowing night had its victim notched,
The Ballet of Shadows had come to rest--
--but not yet had my final test.
I slept again, and woke in the dark,
Now, there was a mirror, a saviour from stark,
Painted in white, it was fit for a monarch,
On top, a remark, a blackened skull,
My reflection itself, appearing so dulled,
My face was blank, and emotion was null,
My eyes were closed, but I could still see,
As I watched my smile twisting with glee,
And crimson nectar leaking through teeth,
The mirror shell cracked, my nerves were wracked,
From the mirror I retreat, but with me it backed,
My instincts raced, my psyche attacked,
The me in the mirror began to convulse,
Quickening was the beat of my pulse,
Beating like drums, a rhythm repulsed,
Then it stopped, the mirror froze,
And off to sleep I began to doze,
Not before my mirror had one last prose,
One finger raised--be silent, mouth closed.
An experiment with dark and disturbing poetry. Let me know if you think you can decode this one.
