Vanity and the number 11

Falsettos ring out in the still of this afternoon beckoning for our hands to hold,

we relive all the vanity and the mirrors' lies we seek more than remedies to combat the antagonist thereof, eleven of them: bards whistling out but not for i am king and they jest so i may not make them friend of guillotine but demons with tenacity of calamity and oh how they shout! i grab on to the carapace gripping for my life and they push me further to my untimely demise. Gaurds! Gaurds! I bellow, save me from this plight do not let me die here not this very night, no soul would come but my mirror made its way etching across the marble in a timely sirens sway, the sound how it turned my mind to chasm of reverb and a deaf child in the reckoning. im losing my grip. i see the reflection. No, no, no this cannot be i plague myself in my own need. i see my chiseled face and eleven more shouting at me as if i were the w***e. i am eleven and one more, such heresey within such mutiny on my stage the karma of my sins. grins and smiles of gold make me the wrinkled hag that i passed on the street clouded by my mirrors so i could even admire my feet, foolish eleven foolish me something is corroding in my mouth the words of love i spoke to myself and the jewels that bewildered my collar and brow and forefinger. the insignia of leadership and crest of generations i only beleived i was only made for fine things only a harp among broken strings. can i be innocent again before i fall? the ivory chaste i confided in breaches closer to my vice i cannot let go, this mirror would never have sufficed how could i know? its shame they sing and they eleven look so perfect,its me thats aging into the monster i would hurt and find satire in. left hand slips rocks tatter on cliff and make vibrant waves on ocean surface right hand clasps for the blanket that humbled my cheek. still they scream! now baritone in their delight my body was perfection i made it through the fight, a king of kings to be revered across history now bait for myself as my fingers blister. right hand slips though i strain with all my might i cant fight fate and so i crash on rock breaking bone and erasing conscience, limply flailing my limbs jig to the eleven they quickly laugh and plunge in after me so we are all no more. as the liquid greets us as prisoner for eternity i sink, i sink and watch my closest friends the eleven of vanity stroke their hair with brushes of fine craft. we sing, we sing for vanity and blush we die we die for our life we did flush.....