My poetry

Widow in the mirror

As I get nearer
I see the widow in the mirror
She has no kindness or mercy
My vision is getting blurry
It's too late to run in a hurry
Her clothes are tattered and dirty
She always comes at three thirty
All I feel is worry

She never leaves me alone at this time
Out of the mirror she will climb
Her clothes are covered in grime
Yet, she always stays quiet as a mime
I feel like the victim of her crimes
Her red eyes remain with their natural, haunting shine

When I go to sleep
All around my room, she creeps
Her hatred is deep
The widow breaks into crying and weeps
I open my eye for a little peep
She notices and leaps
Her nails in my skin as they seep

I don't know her name
In my dreams, she tortured me and caused pain
I don't understand her game
It's always the same
Sometimes her skin feels hotter than a flame
She claims I am the one to blame

She watches me cry in tears
She is one of my biggest fears
Always listening with her ears
She has been in my dreams for years

I will never understand
When she visits me in my sleep, she has plans
She has no personality and is completely bland
She has me trapped like quicksand
She makes me feel like I'm stuck in wonderland
She's a toxic wasteland