The Man in the Mirror

The bullets lay still on the floor right where they fell,
But they should have escorted me on my way to my hell.
As I stood there staring at me in the mirror I said,
If life is this worthless then I'd rather be dead.

Fifteen chances I have, but I only need one,
The man in the mirror is in pain and has a gun,
I can’t watch this man’s tears dropping from his nose,
As he suffers like this, inside he dies, he dies inside real slow.

Mercy is the game to play, and somebody has to win,
Because this poor bastard gave his heart away again.
Busted knuckles and two more are bruised,
This is what it looks like when it’s time to lose.

The slide moves smooth and the spring releases tension,
This man in the mirror standing at full attention.
Slide on forward and move into positions,
The man in the mirror is full of deadly intention.

I can end the pain, end the pain and never think of her again,
Can I end the pain, the pain to end, if never to think of her again.

The slide pulls back and out comes the jacket,
It hits the floor by the door and here comes the second.
Ejected shells, rejected selves with no search for a meaning.
Committed sins, forgiving him she does not want to…love him.

She moves on, all hope is gone, and another shell is on the way,
By now there’s four, four metal jackets, just lying as they say.
Top or front heavy as they fall next to the door,
Unspent, on its side, on the carpet on the floor.

The man in the mirror stares at all those on the floor,
As if he were counting and then knowing there is eleven more.
Get a grip, guard your finger as the slide goes back again,
Now there’s 10, that like a well, they can bring it to the end.

But nobody sees the man in the mirror as he stares into his abyss,
Another way could there be, a better way than this?
Six hits and clicks and falls to the floor,
Barrel still pointed at the man who wants no more.

Next to heaven lies the door and the door right by the mirror,
Shells falling towards, towards the floor below the mirror.
Get a grip, get blown away by the might of 180 grains.
Two-fifths of percent pointed at the man staring at his pains.

Slide back, and kick back, now another shell on the floor,
Seen by the man he sees that broken man in the mirror.
Right hand slides back, with 13 reasons in her name,
Dismember, you see, is because loving is the game.

A different kind of pen to change how this ends,
And the judge is in his chamber, changing out his pen.
All I need is a spark to set this fucker off,
So he can end the pain and end it with a cough.

Take away, away to take, all she did was take.
I gave all that I knew to give and still became a fake.
Another fall, one that I saw, saw what he didn’t know,
And I saw the man in the mirror holding on to what let go.

The shell of a man who can see he’s in the mirror,
Had to lean in closer so he could see a little clearer.
Don’t say her name or you will see which hand can act much faster.
Just set them free and watch them fall away from their dead master.

A gun, I’m done, I think as much, is mightier than the sword,
Around the floor, 15 no more, she loves him, oh, no more.
This whole time as I, being the man behind the mirror,
Was staring at my friend's reflection of myself in utter horror.

One by one, rounds hit the floor, in the mirror by the door.
Where is the death for the man on the floor, wishing for life no more.

She will take no more and I will give her even less,
No longer will I call her my queen or princess.
The man at the door, on the floor by the mirror,
Had to pull the trigger so he could see it no more.



Poetry by Bonehead83
Read 192 times
Written on 2022-06-19 at 08:37

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ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
A troubling- fearful kind of work..
Ken D. Williams
2022-07-05