A Sharp Mirror

A Sharp Mirror

The dagger mirror of a knife.

To engrave a sad day,

Documenting combined strife.

To a body, to say,

For I remember when I was me.

The cold tile I announce my coffin,

What a pristine place to rest.

My heart pounds at a sporadic rhythm,

And what a sad way to go, by cowardice.

For I remember when I was me.

The knife reflects me. The black mass.

Oh how I wish father cared,

To see his child drowning, to pass.

And the tears I bared.

For I remember when I was me.

Finally at rest in space,

Of a dear friend I miss,

The one who stared back at me,

Through the mirror I hate.

For I remember when I was me.

                And I miss her.

 By Lauren Roberts