Reflection

I am the eye of the storm; the glint of the blade

The destroyer of every self-promise you made.

Your hell is lined with mirrors; that’s where you’ll see me

The crippling admission that you yourself are key.

For I feel alive in fire; the burn of isolation

The sickening awareness that I am your creation.

My hands around your lungs; your mind my weary captor

The never ending story, stuck in this black-hole chapter.

And with a beating heart, you storm my tarnished stronghold

The union of warm blood, and battles yet untold.