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Mirror on the wall
Beyond the shattered mirror, where the angels cry tears of mud, lies my twin, shackled and chained. Such is the character of my twin that, if released from my glass prison, would possess the hollow that I claim to be and would give manifestation to the demons that lurk hidden in the shadow of the farthest corners of in mind. Evil that will be wrought on to the world of the innocent by a fragile touch of my finger to break the binds that constrains it. Who, if any man, can resist the temptation of my sin. A sin of no consequence to judgement with the Heavenly Father toward damnation, but a sin of mere betrayl to oneself. A sin that can only be accomplished when one gives up hope in all goodness and sense of balance. Pure souls may look upon me, as I reach for the crystal edges of my reflection, and take pitty on the disgust of what they see. Utter shame would befall onto me but, there are no pure souls, only the blind and ignorant. No one may take critisim in the black flame of my eyes, for they too wish for the same. The wish to be free from the ropes of rightousness and deem all of our devious plights just, as is the nature of man. The nature of man...a such thing that is pushing my hand forward to touch to cool silver that beckons for me, cries for me. If my skin should touch, the incarnation of all that I once frowned upon shall be free, and myself behind an impassable dimension. If I am to feel the smooth of glass, then a banner is nailed to my back with the words "Purity is dead, innocence is gone, the right have no shelter!" written in blood, for these are the words that I shall feel and proclaim. Time is passing. The air around me has gotten cold. My touch is a hair's length from the bewitched mirror that smiles in welcome. Why do I hesitate? What is stopping me from from shattering my virtueous being from existence? Maybe...there is some hope that I hold on to? A gleaming thread that will not let go until salvations has been brought upon me. Nope *touch*

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