Broken Mirrors

Anguish Driven By Fire

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A woman strives to breathe life back into the embodiment of her being, but is caught up in the fires of rage.

I lie in my bed thinking about broken mirrors.  Each crack represents a piece of me.  For my being is driven by song sung by tearful rains filling my soul with darkness.

The aguish embroiling my spirit longs to be fed by soothing melodies.  However, only aphonic cries from crows echo in my head.

For the longer the beads connect me to you, the higher my flames rise.  It's time to disconnect these beads, and single them out.  If I'm to remit cowered breaths holding onto the fabric my tears melt upon, the greater my inner power lessens.


I cannot thrive draped in chains you placed around my heart.  I must undo them if I'm to thrive.  

I want to walk through fire just once if not be blinded by the smoke you keep. For it's your rage eating me.  I don't want to dwell in a run down abode.  I wish to leave through it's doors, and be uplifted into the clouds of heaven.

For every tear falling upon my head, a new seed bring a flower into bloom.  I'm compelled to lull myself to sleep when fires die down, leaving Ash and smoke behind.  

Lord, you are the waters quenching my thirst.  The ocean implores me to use it's salt to cleanse my wounds; however, it burns my flesh with it's coarseness.

If ever there were a song to be sung by my anguish, it would be one of sadness. For to plead into a lone wolf's heart becomes me in tithe to be sold.

Lull me into the realm of dreams, and I shall divide all drifters marching into the sea.  It's your candor bestowing a hush over your audience.  I arise next morning to find myself feeling meloncholy.

If weren't for lathered tears bubbling in the brook, I should be at a loss for will to comprise my steed.

For if you offer to consume acidity embroiling my flesh, the folds shall decrease along my eyes.  I've become you, and you have become me.

All I ask is to walk against the wind, so long as you uphold statutes barring the miser from my door.

For your derivitive shall be measured by the greater good, and your psalm you speak shall be embodied in me forever and ever more.  If only the lacking would cease, and the laughter shall transform mockery into salvation.  One into a plight, and insanity driven away.


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