I look upon the empty frame
But I see, it speaks behind,
Behind me. In front there is no
Mirror,
Reflection,
Hair
Is on end, I breath, but I am exhaling.
What expelled.
I feel whispers in each ear,
Voice,
Voices,
Words
"Telling me what I must"
Must, must, must.
I see what whispers, the reflection
That's not meant to be.
Me
I,
voices
Muttered upon myself.
"The wood Is thirst"
"It shows yourself as meant to be"
"Reflection of that not seen"
I scream, but whispers are expelled
As I walk away.
I find in front of this mirror less frame,
Old nails
Protruded,
Extended,
Overhanging
Points upon flesh.
"I find my self laying flat,"
Lacerations as I see a reflection
"In this Mirror less frame"
It is me laughing as I bleed upon wood,
I see that which took me,
It was me that **fed the wood...