By the mirror

I keep lurching in the dark, With the unforgiving feeling of searching for something long lost in the dimness where truth lies, In the prejudice of my mind, My scream an echo to death's heart, An unforgiving fountain of crimson blood, Like drips of memories fleeting far from my grip in a thrashing flood, Sending devil's whisper to the vast hole within my might, The world bathed in burning shards of flame, The smell of ashes going way down to hell, And yet I stand aquiver, While turning into dust by the mirror,