Faith In The Glass

Still not quite sure how this all began
I remember coming back to the place
I used to call home
The haven where I felt safe
Became my living nightmare

Something was wrong
With so much hate, and anger
Not at others, no never
But at myself
Holding up the round vanity mirror
Disgusted with the stranger staring back
I wrapped up the mirror in a towel
Using every amount of energy I had
Slamming the object to the bathroom counter
Hearing my life shatter before me
I am dead

Broken glass dances across my
Pale smooth wrist
Letting the blood flow from my
Arm to the floor
Feeling of hot steam rises from
My self inflicted wound
That will scab, dry, flake, and heal
Becoming a scar that will continue to
Haunt me until the end of time.