Shards

Mirrors are fragile...
Bending as borne lassitude of image
Cracked as irony caved on its own weight
Broken, but laced well
If it jams, you force it
Or rein-force-mentally frame it -
Bits and pieces of you
Peep through spiked ‘n cynical boarders
To shield what then was reflection
Of yours
In a thinking far too fragile to endure
Stones of truth bombarding conscience
Only to catch yourself in splinters
Over and over
Tossing and twisting shards into your slit palms
Subtly embraced in the ecstasy of bleeding’s
Tepid feel
Of crimson flow
Pooling glass at your feet
As footpath
Made to bless heels in what bleeding
Began with piercing edge of denial...
Caustic blades of untruth being told
And one pain pane of glass you shattered
In battle of self