Ends

What this hardened soul's cry purports?
Hard and weak alike, hard from out and weak within,
Wring my calmness into a tumult of pain, and disorder,
My heart senses troubled time ahead.
Troubled? Or may be a dire end.
An end in itself the end of time in my veins.
It seems as if my breath is culled each moment.
There isn't an absolute end in any way but.
Just here, Just the visible.
I shall live on in the other worlds and 'verses.
The mirrors no more show my true self
For my mind is shattered fully.
Unanswered and unfulfilled, dull and dry,
My eyes seem to decline and dwell in dolors.
Once temperate demeanor disrupted.
No more of my soul's felonies can I bear.
No more of them in my solitude.
The courage. I assume it is nought.
And Strength, over-arched by gruesome fears.
What this flail soul's cry purports?
Nothing. Into nothing, and to the end of nothing.

Mirrors

With revulsion and reluctance you look
Into my surly eyes. Have you read them by now?
Ah! while they scorch into bloody red,
You still stand before them and dare
To earn their wrath. Poor living cells in them.
They are at their deadly high. Born and out.
At once. They do not blink at my rhyme
Nor they at all close and give up.
After all what are they when there is nothing
To hide in them, nothing to protect.
What all can escape escaped.
What all can bleed them bled them.
Poor mirrors. They showed my world in them.
A small world though. They are crass anyways.
So I did them.
With bluntest of my knives.
They were searching for pain. Where it went?
Not up there but down right there.
When heart is pierced already, what more can be?
I still see something. Though far off.
Is it you and me? Never mind. Who's me? No one.
Well if there are nights anymore I'll live in dark.
And if there are any days... Well dark again.
One in one out. Well played world.
A pawn and that's all you'll lose. You lost.