On the mirror,

he now turns his back,

stumbling on his way,

a far cry from the heady times;

the smiles of yesterday.


The tumbler in his hand

now holds a halo of revolt,

the stain and stagnant smell

of yet another single malt.


Glancing o’er his shoulder

at the man within the frame,

his bane; his timeless nemesis

who mocks him with his shame.


In a moment of pure rage

he turns and throws the glass,

the mirror explodes,

a shameful shower

of hate and bile, en-masse.


A million mournful memories

of a lifetime built on lies,

the torn and shattered remains

of a face he now defies.


Collapsing to the carpet,

head bowed low within his hands,

a silent cry now claws the hearts

of those who understand.


Yet still his mind is tempted

by just one final look,

at the shards of glass

now lying shattered,

forlorn and so forsook.


But the pit of his stomach

turns cold with such a dark

and fearsome fright,

at the vista lying before him;

a haunting, sadistic sight.


Each shard of glass,

now a life of it’s own,

there’s a realisation

and woeful moan.


So many mocking faces

staring up and out at him,

taunting him and teasing,

with malevolent little grins.


Broken far beyond all hope,

to the corner of the room

he crawls

and in a foetal position,

like a child, bereft,

to his soul he openly bawls!




Written by Darren Scanlon, 20th March 2016.

© 2016 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.


4 Comments Add yours

  1. GrannyMoon says:

    Interesting! I am watching Red Dragon, your words are as powerful as this movie!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Rita says:

    Wow! This is powerful.

    Liked by 1 person

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