Ides Of Winter Mirrors
Water collects in little pools, where our children laugh and see themselves.
From kingdoms so far removed. In a clearing of trees by the river’s edge.
Out of reach of prying hands, to her beauty no one could compare.
We loved our family but in the end, I know she loved only one.
She cut herself, and the flowing wounds were tiny holes that took her away.
She cut herself, and the flowing wounds were the waves when she held them in place.
I saw that her eyes gazed only at themselves.
Why did they cry?
And why did they not sleep at night?
Why did she give in?
Why, oh god, why did they trust her?
That was the last of me.
As I walked towards a wolven grave, I cursed her name.
Why did they cry?
And why did they not sleep at night?
Why did she give in?
Why, oh god, why did they trust her?
For hours she’d stare at her own reflection.
And beg her dreams to erase the river.
She couldn’t stand to wake up screaming.
When those tiny faces fought for air.
To forget. Her reflection’s beauty, not a broken heart.
Worn forever for all to see are the scars upon her arms.
She plead for the sands of time to keep her image fair.
Mirrors never show within, only what is there.
