Broken Mirror

Tis an anomaly to me, that

when looking in the mirror,

I am transparent, without soul,

nor any affirmation that life exists within.

I am less than a shadow, a sinister spectre,

but the deception is not mine.

What would this world have me be?

A hollow abode, a habitat for the vacant

to haunt, ghastly in ghostly hues.

I am repugnant, an ominous reminder

that death is not the final word,

just an abhorrent common ancestor.

One can move about and flail restlessly

whilst consciously decaying and departing

this world. Every domiciled being,

is home to putrefaction, festering of spirit

and corroding courage and compassion.

I love things and use people.

I am a pretext, not a person,

just a trick of the light; my affected invisibility

a silhouette of nothing.

What did I expect of a broken mirror, anyway?

Reviews

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. ah, well ... i like all the hues of classical english that you so effortlessly express your thoughts in ... including the " 'tis " but i'm no expert ... and the instances of alliteration are remarkable ... you obviously have great felicity with the language ... your vocabulary is utterly remarkable too ... yet my favourite line in this post is ... "I am a pretext, not a person" ... simple and so incredibly loaded with meaning and profound ... makes one ponder about how small one is ... in the scheme of things ... exceptional poetry ...

[ivizarx]

Lol @ Chris' comment... good one bro.
However, I find the word adds character to the poem, unless it was meant to be in a modern setting of which i see no defined indication of... otherwise, excellent I say ^_^
gives off a slight "Poe" like essence