Shards (A Dark Poem)
Shards
Hobbes
*quick note*
A very dark and depressing song I wrote
When I look in the mirror, is it me looking back?
I used to think this all the time untol my attack.
On the subway I sat, I was school bound.
But a gun in my face was what I found.
"Give me your wallet or you'll end up dead.
Make a sudden move I'll put a bullet through your head."
As I was fear stricken, I was stuck where where I stood,
I couldn't believe the man under the hood.
Was he truly so desprit he'd end my life?
Is this how man copes in this time of strife?
Reflection distorted as look as the shards,
I used to be compared to the greatest of bards.
The mirror is broken, the shards cut deep but still I live,
I had always been told that one day what we give,
Would help us in life, a karma of sorts,
Now all I see in the mirror is the bloodstained reflection it distortes.
Identity theft is the hardest case to prove,
I'm left with few options, should I stay, should I move?
The only thing left is the pain that's so real,
If only he'd killed me it'd end this ordeal.
I load my DE with one bullet to start,
And a second for insurance as I inhale a dart.
Is it really over, do I want it to end?
And what of my family, what message would I send?
Dear mom and dad, know that I love you still,
As for my life, well I've just lost the will.
Eagle of the desert be swift in your kill,
Leave in peoples minnds no details to fill.
Cocked and loaded, the trigger is left to pull,
And the thoughts that were missing, now my head is full.
I look once again to the shards on the floor,
And as I see my face there's a knock on the door.
"John Doe I presume," said a voice from afar,
"I have your ID," said the cop, "In my car."
But little did I know my trigger finger would slip,
And walking to the door, on the shards I would trip.
The cop saved my body but the shards saved my life,
And I could never again, to my skin, put a knife.
Reflection distorted as look as the shards,
I used to be compared to the greatest of bards.
The mirror is broken, the shards cut deep but still I live,
I had always been told that one day what we give,
Would help us in life, a karma of sorts,
Now all I see in the mirror is the bloodstained reflection it distortes.
When I look in he mirror, all I see is me,
A survivor in the face of catastrophy.
Copyright © Calvin Genereux | Year Posted 2009
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