Whispers of the Soul

Horror

The Haunted Mirror

In the dim-lit room where shadows play,
I caught a glimpse at the end of the day.
A mirror hung solemn, its surface so clear,
Yet something within it drew me near.

As I peered at my face, a flicker of doubt,
A movement so subtle, I couldn't live without.
There, in the glass, a figure appeared,
With eyes like the night, so dark and so seared.

I turned to confront what I thought I had seen,
But the room stood empty, void of all keen.
The air felt electric, a hush gripped my soul,
The mirror was silent, but it swallowed me whole.

Was it just my reflection, or something profound?
A watcher, a whisper, where secrets abound.
I stepped back in fright, my heart racing fast,
For in that still moment, I felt my own past.

What haunted my dreams? What lingered in fears?
Were these shadows of memories, or echoes of tears?
Each night they would beckon, those eyes from the glass,
Inviting me closer to confront what would pass.

I brushed at the surface, my fingers did shake,
As whispers surrounded me, make no mistake.
In the depths of the mirror, the truth lay entwined,
A puzzle unspoken, too heavy to find.

I dared not return, but the pull was so strong,
The haunted reflections, where shadows belong.
For who watches from silence, concealed from the light?
The mirror held secrets, and I lost to the night.

So I wander this world, with fear as my guide,
Haunted by what lies on the other side.
And each time I gaze in, I shudder and wait,
For the haunted mirror reveals my own fate.