Broken glass
Glitters in the light
That rushes at me
As I regain my senses.

Surrounded by the wreckage
Wrought by rage,
I begin to strain
And examine my abode.

Turmoil feeds my anxiety,
Antagonizing my thoughts
While I stare at my feet
With morbid fascination.

A pool of blood
Hauntingly settles at my feet
In an enchantingly
Infectious pattern.

Blood on my hands,
On my clothes.
Copious settlements of blood…
Everywhere, still warm.

Alone
At the station of realization
I await the train
Of consequences.

Mirror on the wall.
The demon in my view?
Time to face myself
And the wreckage of another rage.

Into the mirror I stare,
Dancing slowing with
Acknowledgement…
I am bleeding.

Rage.
With this ring of consequences
I thee wed
Again and again.