If the Mirror Could Speak

Silently she stares back at me, 

A perfect replica of the creature that God created. 

The same thick strands of blonde hair. 

The same slightly crooked nose. 

That devious smile. 

Everything about her seems so real,

Except for her eyes. 

They are the same pale blue as my own, 

But they are lacking something significant. 

To stare into them 

Sends an eerie chill throughout my bones, 

For they seem to belong to someone else. 

I sometimes feel her presence 

Even when I am away from the mirror, 

Her cold and distant stare 

Slicing through my flesh 

Like a newly sharpened blade. 

I especially feel her when I am alone. 

I feel as if I should already know her intentions, 

Though I cannot hear her thoughts. 

I know that she does not mean well 

And I am afraid. 

I pray that she remains trapped behind the glass, 

Growing old and weary 

Until all possibility of escape withers 

And dies along with her.

I cannot fathom my existence without her, 

Yet the mere thought of her 

Terrifies me so severely 

That I am unable to sleep. 

Is it possible that she is capable of hearing my thoughts, 

Feeding off of my fear like a wild beast? 

This is what I imagine nightmares are made of. 

The simplest of creatures 

Whom are much like we are, 

Yet far more sinister than we could ever imagine. 

They creep in slowly 

During our most vulnerable moments 

To first steal our sanity 

And then our souls. 

She was one of them 

And I could not escape her. 

She knew everything about me 

Even my own deepest, 

Darkest secrets.-