Hysteria

The shattered mirror in my palm rests, coldly.

It reflects a vision,

Though not the image you see. 

But the one that only I find.

That distorted girl 

Claws at me

From behind a wall that

Weakly,

Holds her back.

I dread the day she'll break free

For it's not a case of "if"

But of "when".

No amount of hiding,

No delusions I may keep 

Could protect me.

So for now I force myself

To stare.

If I watch

At least she won't catch me, 

By surprise.