THE ALTAR OF YOUR MIRROR

 

THE ALTAR OF YOUR MIRROR

Believing, with a zealot’s fervor,

in the tainted self-importance

that crowns your head like a rusted halo,

and the narcissism blooming wild

in the garden of your undeniable,

superficial beauty—

a porcelain mask,

spoon-fed to the masses

through over-inflated propaganda,

billboards blazing with your glossed smile,

a sermon of vanity

preached to the choir

of a world too eager to kneel.  

Always armed, always prepared,

to justify your thoughtlessness

with a silver tongue sharp as broken glass,

defending the selfish hedonism

of choices that ripple outward—

reckless waves crashing

against fragile shores,

shattering glass hearts

on the shelves of china shops,

their delicate fragments

glittering like tears

in the wreckage you leave behind.  

Unapologetic,

your remorse starves,

anorexic and hollow,

a ghost of regret

that never dares to take root.

You wield a tornado of apathy,

a swirling funnel of indifference,

its roar a hymn to your chaos,

tearing through paths and highways,

uprooting lives like saplings

in the grip of a merciless wind.

The asphalt scars beneath your heels,

black veins splitting the earth,

and you barrel through,

eyes fixed on the horizon,

never glancing back

at the smoldering ruins in your wake.  

Your beauty, a gilded blade,

cuts deeper than it dazzles,

a siren’s call luring the unwary

to crash upon your jagged edges.

The air around you crackles,

thick with the static of self-adoration,

a storm that chokes the sky,

leaving no room for the pleas

of those you’ve trampled—

their voices drowned

in the thunder of your stride.  

Down these ravaged roads,

you dance a solitary waltz,

twirling through the debris

of promises snapped like dry twigs,

friendships ground to dust,

love reduced to ash

in the furnace of your gaze.

The world bends,

a supplicant at your altar,

while I stand,

breathless,

watching the funnel cloud recede,

counting the cost