Shattered Glass Covenant

Shattered Glass Covenant

I woke with my face pressed to cracked mirror while something behind the reflection grinned with teeth I’d never grown
Dark bled through ceiling plaster like ink from a suicide letter,
pooling at my feet in accusations
Every breath tasted of copper and broken vows,
the air thick with whispers of drowned men calling my name
I stumbled through hallways that stretched into forever,
doors breathing cold exhales that stank of rot
My reflection reached through shattered glass with fingers made of smoke and hunger,
dragging me toward its jagged grin
Blood welled at the mirror’s edge as I swung my fist,
cracks spider-webbing across reality itself
The thing wearing my face whispered every sin I’d buried,
every lie I’d swallowed like poison
My lungs burned with rust and regret as it pulled me deeper
where the light runs out
I screamed into an ocean of everything I’d wrecked and surfaced naked to the dark,
stripped clean
When the final shard carved my cheek I was half-blind
but fully awake to the haunting
I wear these scars now,
proof that some men stand tallest
when there’s nothing left to save them from themselves
The mirror lies in pieces but the reflection still watches from every fragment,
waiting for me to sleep again