…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