The mirror of fear
Shattered glass—
Cracked reflection—
Is that me?
No—it can’t be—
Distorted—twisted—
Who is that?
Who am I?
The mirror—
It shows something—
Something dark—
Something deceitful.
The mirror of fear lies—
It must lie—
Or is it showing the truth?
A truth I don’t want to see—
A truth I fear.
Fear…Dread
It grips—tightens—
The mirror shows it all—
Every flaw—
Every terror—
Reflected back—
No escape—
Not from yourself—
Not from the mirror.
It watches—
Always watches—
Those eyes—
Are they mine?
They can’t be—
Too dark—
Too hollow—
But they follow—
Wherever I move—
The reflection never leaves—
It knows—
It sees—
Everything.
A shadow—
A figure—
Behind me?
Or just in the mirror?
Cracks scatter—
Fractures grow—
But the reflection remains—
Staring—
Waiting—
For what?
For me to break—
Like the glass—
Like the mirror.
Fear consumes—
And the mirror of fear…
It always knows.
What hides within it—
What it shows—
It knows—
More than me—
It sees—
What I won’t see.
A scream—
But is it mine?
Or the mirror’s?
Does it scream?
Can it scream?
Or is it just my mind?
Falling—crumbling—
The mirror cracks—
Splinters—
But still, it holds—
It doesn’t shatter—
It never shatters—
Even as I do—
Even as fear takes hold—
The mirror of fear endures death—
Watching—
Knowing—
Waiting…
For the final crash.
The mirror’s surface—
It pulses—
As if breathing—
A living thing—
Alive with my fears—
Alive with my anxieties.
I reach—
To touch—
But my hand recoils—
From the cold—
From the reflection—
It never changes—
Yet it shifts—
A living enigma—
Reflecting truths I can’t grasp—
The more I look—
The more it shifts—
Revealing the darkest secrets
Of my own mind—
The mirror of fear—
It waits—
For me to accept and understand—
For me to shatter in the endless darkness.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
