Tis only noon and I heard a creep at the door,
I sat in my dear chair, many stories above earths floor,
I gazed outside, hoping to see the cause of the dreaded sound,
Yet my hopes crumbled with the winds passing,
As there was but paltry birds abroad, sonnet bound,
My eye grew weary upon the doors crack,
Upon this dreary gate stood a fiery plaque,
New to my sight, this must be but a dream!
The design was colorless, lifeless,
Absent of chilling imagery,
Adept of bitter reflection,
A mirror now stood where a plaque of honor should!
Ive sat silly for many an hour,
Darkness of night has consumed my room full,
The mirror reflecting the unknown power has grown me sour,
For I have yet to search my heart for the might,
To gaze upon the grim mirror,
Shall it hide its image in spite?
Tis the late hours of night,
And once again I hear it!
I hear it! The tap, tap, tap on the door,
The crack, crack, crack of its roar,
The push, push, push, evermore,
O harlot w-hore!
Back, back to fiery hell!
Remove thou mirror, take thy portal,
Ding, ding, ding, the ring of the bell,
Quickly, I ran to the door,
My palms sweaty, my mind ablaze,
I thrust forth the handle, more, more, more!
Yet standing in front of me,
Was but contempt silence, still,
The mirror still rested high above my head,
Best I not shrill.
I ran back to my dear chair,
Finding sanctuary, I gave the mirror a mighty stare,
No more, mirror entrenched in fear,
Shall you crush my soul; disappear!
I crept, crept, crept, to the door,
Sneaking within arms reach of my prey,
Striking fast, I leapt for the mirror!
Yet standing staring back at me in dismay,
Was myself, gazing upon the door,
Nothing more.
Tick, tick, tick,
The clock struck the twelfth hour,
I swept to my dear chair,
Recovered my eyes and started my prayer,
Suddenly my mind struck me an idea,
I must fall into slumber and refuse the mirrors stare!
As I closed my eyes the mirror surprised me once more,
As it gazed upon my tired body,
My ghastly image shown so I could not ignore,
Nothing more.
I arose from my slumber,
Greeted by the breeze of wind flowing with pace,
I found myself in my dear chair still,
Greeted with a grim image, face to face,
O, bitter mirror, hast thou sustained life,
Through sucking mine own dry?
Again the tap, tap, tap at the door,
The crack, crack, crack of its roar,
O, the burden of this fiery w-hore!
I shall cut it dead,
For without my body,
Its strength shall surely shred,
I raced to the cabinet and took hold a blade,
Its pinnacle sharpened,
It was now the mirror who prayed!
As I impaled my own stomach dear,
I stared once more at the dreary mirror,
Gazing back at me was but my body abhor,
Dead sharp upon the door,
Nothing more.
