To The Mirror

Can you please stop walloping my hippocampus,

Every single apathetic dawn?

My Eyes, now a soured say;

Wakes up to your whisper,

'they are screeching',

And shut to your Murmur,

'We demand a fair play'!

I am maddened,

By ur cussed lingering voice,

Nagging my each nailbed

Till the moon gulps the twilight! -

I hit the mirror in front,

Broken pieces of glass scattered;

Screams echoed.

The mirror,

When a flock of black feathers flapped,

Parallelly beneath the crimson clouds,

My dopey eyes then, chased them,

and you carved its beauty!

When the blue skies chanted,

The brook of my dumb desires,

I again looked at you.

Even my hanging shadow of the soul,

Couldn't edify me the way you did!

The mirror,

You pulled me out,

From my headstrong sphere,

Bestowed docility over my dwelling;

You stayed awake bright,

Till my last drop of tear dried,

You engraved ecstasy,

In my gloomy thoughts.

The mirror,

Each time,

You sensed my fingertips,

I touched me;

Pearls of autarky and fancy,

Confined into a Cheshire brown skin!

Cherry red lips, 

Used to curve at you then!

My oblivion was still a kid

To the wings of the wind

When they blew hard

And left my skin abraded;

Rather, the soul!

The mirror,

Now you only reflect, the cacophony,

Of the night of terror.

You screamed today,

Your voice tore apart 

My blemished body

And cicatrix;

Pierced through this sinless soul.

The mirror,

While dew drops dropped,

From cold grass and lanceolate,

I watched you crying,

In the lap of that dark night,

When the world,

Turned their sight,

And hushed me to sleep.

The mirror,

When I bare my shoulder

You bloom excruciating,

Reddish-brown Scar,

all over the neck;

Instantly I turn back.

Why do you still shed briny drops,

When it's healing?

Why you shriek sore,

When did it stop bleeding?

Why you still paint hysteric red,

When it's a mere hue of brown now?

The mirror,

I broke you.

Did it hurt?

Are you bleeding?

Or maybe, are you bleeding more

Then the cries of that bare body,

the ripped dress beside,

Behind the curtains,

Of that already midnight?

I picked up a little, broken

Piece of Mirror

Shushed at it,

"Hush, no one should hear this, dear!"