Mirrorrorrim (Reflectation)

Cracked mirror reflects my hate. It sees how far I miscalculate. Trepidation at my fingertips. Dry cracked and bleeding lips. Involuntary act of aggressive passion. Cloaked in viral gaudy fashion. Trapped in paths of midnight wander. Caves that scream out of the yonder. Impressive feats of cubist art. Back to front. End to start. Porcelain figures smash and break. For good or bad, for goodness sake. Feathers drop down from the heavens. They leave me all at twelves and sevens. Sixes smile in joyful bliss. When cracked mirrors do not exist.