Smack

Your reflection splintered the mirror, and the shards began to scatter. Your twisted mind painted a vivid picture — an intricate design of blood spatter.

A whirlwind of chaos that causes all to bloom: the good, the bad, the ugly, the panic of impending doom.

Though you convinced yourself this was buried with the infected dirt you threw on the beaten, malnourished body of the one you call the old you,

Something deep in your chest pounded a little too loud, sounding the alarm bell warning of your false shroud.

She may be six feet under, but she isn't all the way dead. And now she's come back with words to voice what was left unsaid.

She's a devastating wildfire with a blaze ignited by a single match. She sings her sweet siren song to lure you into her trap.

She comes with a steadfast purpose and the willpower of mama bear. Interfere with the welfare of her cubs, but only if you fucking dare.

You're feeling like you've got the spins because none of this shit makes sense. You know you're quickly killing yourself, and not even at your own expense.

Yet when she lies down at your worn and tired feet, you welcome her with loving arms and turn the other cheek.

You lean in for a hug and, if you're lucky, a kiss. She thrusts the knife into your back. You don't even clench your fists.

Her reigning power is frightening and, though you've fought her off before, you know you've only won the battle and she still might take the war.