A web of needle-fine lines
Insubstantial except that they mark the edge of glassy shards.
Running, tumbling, falling over each other in their haste to get away
From some horror that only a line of nothing could comprehend.
My face, reflected back at me
Superimposed on a teeming mass of wrinkles that
Turn seven years bad luck into seventy and age me all at once.
A skeleton, worn to white by years of exposure, swaying in the breeze
Hanging on a new rope, with fresh bloodstains,
Masses of curly black hair that somehow didn't age fall from the grinning
skull.
A silver silken scarf that weaves itself into a hangman's noose.
Long black hair contrasts with red marks on a white neck left by a silver
scarf.
Wake up. You're in someone else's nightmare.
A room of blinding white, brighter than the sun,
With swirling movements in the corners of your eyes
That solidify into horrible colorless monsters.
A canopied bed of pink silks and laces, a princess's bed
And a little brown teddy bear with big brown eyes
That whisper their loneliness from a fluffy pink pillow.
The princess is now a Queen, and she doesn't have time for you.
Too busy being strong and successful for the little girl inside to come
home and hug you.
So close those big brown eyes and go to sleep.
You're in someone else's nightmare.
Fall into a broken mirror and know
That's everything's going to be all right.