touch the glass

Written by: jezabella singe

My reflection,
Drenched in red,
Is an illusion,
In my head?

Could this be real
Or just a trick,
Blood makes the floors,
Really slick,

So if I trip,
And hit the glass,
The stain will smear,
As my fingers pass,

A bloody mess,
Is what this is,
But no one can hear me,
Ask what gives?