The Hatter’s Reflection
OutroCoin spins once more, hits bone, hits floor,
then disappears in the seam of the night
like a secret he’ll never confess,Somewhere far off,
a broken music box plays itself without a hand,
and he tips his hat to the echo and the mess,He walks on,
stitched together by curses and choices,
humming to himself as the corridors flex and glow,The game still runs,
the house still cheats, the darkness still wants its due—and every time he lets one
soul go, the laughter trailing him down the hall whispers back:I am a wizard,
you know.