I looked at the mirror
when I heard myself scream.
Through broken glass,
I saw me waking from a dream.
And I lay the rhyme down,
hoping it can float me as I drown
in the floods that you welled in my eyes.
When you were in the dark
wasn't I the light that didn't cease to shine,
like your natural satellite, reflecting
the words of the divine?
But more than appearing,
to the ramblings of your demons,
that sang the songs of the dead and dying
and of those who chose to leave this life.
And now that I echo them to you,
thoughts that had always been askew—
the critters in a mind that never sleeps
and grinds the bones of every sheep
that it refused to count,
I've become the night that I am
in your eyes, in your ears,
in all your other senses
that can feel only fear
and lust and regret
but never love.
I look at myself in the mirror
and I scream to wake me up
from this broken dream.