an obscured image

in a shattered mirror

broken glass scattered on the floor

people are dying but i'm the only one lying

to myself

i don't know the truth

i want to scream

but my throat is sore

and it would hurt more

if i did

so instead i strike my mirror

because i loathe it so

the cold feels never ending

warmth never lasts for long

and the red warmth trickling down my palm

doesn't help much

perception changes

along with everything else

i want to crawl into bed

pull the covers over my head

and never get up

there's a disease eating away at my soul

and i feel like i'll never be whole

i'm broken

just like the image in the shattered mirror

am i going to be swept up and thrown away too?

would i be just as easily replaced?

or can i be repaired?

i don't know.