Staring into the cracks of the rotten window pane,
It could not see what should be, the wide world delayed,
The eyes could only see the sting of committed disdain.
Dragging the dishevelled body towards the mirror, it would stare,
Longingly to not be itself, to be different, to be of change,
But this would not happen it thought to itself, slumped onto the chair.
Into the mirror it gazed, the body still and unphased, the eyes darting across its figure,
Distortion had shrouded the weary eyes of days passed, eyes without sleep, eyes without a light,
This was it, a bottle of pills and the water on the side table, time had frozen, this was the trigger.
Ten? Twenty? Thirty...? It could not see.
Expectations were high but toxicity was low;
Inebriated and into stupor, thinking it was free.
The dim lights had died, breaths shallow, eyes closing.
Awoken by screetching of sirens, it store upwards towards the mirror,
And again she saw the ugly reflection staring back at her, breathing and malcontent.
YOU ARE READING
Below Zero
PoetryBelow Zero was a small collection of dark poems written when I was younger. Personally, I don't like all of them as they reflect various states of minds and were more personal and amateur at the time of writing. Some of them, such of Nature of Human...
