…of pain

An unkind mirror an unmarked clock
ticking ticking ticking
in the shadowed halls of night
somewhere unseen the sand shifts in the hourglass
but the hands of time are silent and still
seconds and minutes fall away like a slow fading dream
my reflection now unfamiliar, a stranger in my own skin
drifting ghostly, my heart shattered like multicoloured glass
the shards scattered beneath my feet
each step opens another wound
portraits of pain, painted in blood
becoming rivers that mirror the dark ink wells of my broken soul
I ache to turn back time
but the sand is still flowing away
time races in empty space and I am alone again
with nothing but memories that cannot be erased
©Ann Bagnall