Elegy for the Empty Mirror

Elegy for the Empty Mirror

In gilded halls where self adores,
A nasty narcissist feeds on praise,
Their voice, a serpent’s coiling roar,
Their smile—a blade in hallowed haze.

They paint their soul in borrowed light,
A canvas void of xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Each mirror reflects their hollow night,
Yet they curse the glass for being blind.

With honeyed words, they spin their traps,
A dance of lies in polished shoes,
They drink from life like greedy gapes,
Then scorn the well for drying up.

No empathy inhabits their gaze,
Only storms behind a tranquil sea.
They’ll ghost you when the winds change days,
And call it freedom—you’re just debris.

But time, that thief, will peel their sheen,
Reveal the rot beneath the gold.
The crowd that chanted yours to be
Will vanish when their throne grows cold.

For narcissus blooms, then crumbles fast—
A fleeting, bitter, thorned-up spring.
The nastier sort? They leave a waste:
A heart unlearned, a soul un-sung.