Mirror

The house is quiet,
a singular flame of burning cotton flickers in a sacred room
while the light inside of you extinguishes completely. 
And so you shatter.

The night ripens and the darkness darkens,
and you set out to collect those pieces off the floor;
you assemble them ,
your hands stained with the red of your own being,
ironic, you call it,
laughable even.

The pieces come together painstakingly slow
and the night seems to pass slower.
You frown, your tired eyes barely making out a otherwise glaring void in your womb,
and you feel a rush of tears for the first time in a long while.
you nurture the void instead of resenting it,
you love it but alas ;
the love would only remain as long as it remained within you.

Soon in an almost unreal manner, the void takes a form,
angry and doubtful; it rips the very womb that it housed and takes a leap. 
A leap into the world where suffering it knows not awaits.
a suffering , perhaps , not undeserved. 

In front of you it stands and you flinch.
your eyes widen and your lips part and your hands begin to reach out,
is it real?
But soon the disbelief fades and resentment resurfaces.

You don't like how it seems to mirror you.
a complete replica , except-
the figure staring back at you has wings.
The scar in your back prickles suddenly, reminiscing, grieving;
and suddenly your hands reach out to pluck off the feathers on its back.
It can't have wings, you think.
It's unfair, it's too angry,
it's resentful and you simply couldn't let it have wings as well.

The figure struggles against you, as your hands turn into talons,
digging into it's back until its bruised and bloody.
The figure screams.
An animal like wail rips through the silence of the night as you laugh,
your chest filled with a bitter satisfaction.

But then in an instant the figure lunges forward,
trying, trying to get you off ;
it's face suddenly morphed into a maniacal smile you recognize all too well.
The figure from the dark of your mind.
Taunting you, always teasing you.
Ripping off the only thing that could take you away.
Tormenting you until you fall apart.

And so you push harder and it falls back and it shatters.
It's a mirror.
But your heart doesn't slow down,
only races as a thousand of pieces reflect the very same face you wished to vanish.
And your soul submits to the inevitable,
to the unchanging fate that you were given.