Lex Talionis of the Dishonest Speculum

I’m broken cause she is clumsy

but at least it’s a mere crack,

A sliver through my silver,

on up through my glass,

from my back.

I count myself lucky.

As I’ve heard the tales

that others reflected to me of

that day infamy claimed.

They detailed the vicious attack

on my brethren that this Deranged woman made.

The act was plainly avoidable,

by far in retrospect.

The attack she enacted that day

when she hacked them apart;

a whole stack of looking glasses!

This bitch,

Her creative juices

caught a knack for

splashy, psuedo-creative nuances

in her rooms scenery.

She chose a shattering

of many mirrors,

of my family;

by way of canned fruit salad and leaning a stack of them at a slant;

And whack!

She threw the snack.

Picked it up, just to repeat it then,

She came galumphing back to [Whack!] do it again.

Then she glued up their pieces

Pieces of my friends

..into shelving.

The crazy bitch crazy-glued

my fucking cousins to

the interior walls of her book case.

What I call murder

doesn’t offend her.

She thinks of it as good taste!

At the very least,

As an artsy fartsy display.

The shards of my camaraderie

for what?

A damned conversation piece.

This was not clumsy..

This was done purposely;

This was genocide.

My pane in pain that I’ll hide.

Painstakingly ruminating,

asking ‘Why?’.

Why fruit salad?

No; Why Fruit cocktail?

She brandished a canned good,

And ripped them apart

piece by piece..

I try not to reflect on it,

but I seek release.

I need it for peace of mind,

To pacify me; I’m irate.

Reckoning seems begged of me so

I’ll do it my best respectively,

each day

To chip away at her mental state.

I hope to internally annihilate

her self-esteem.

I mean to be mean while I’m

Passive aggressively exacting

my revenge

within her own image.

Ill begin, as I do my job dutifully.

As I duplicate her form,

My rancor will take shape.

It’ll be in the subtleties

I’ll be warping, rendering distorted

the visage of her body

that I devilishly duplicate.

While she’s dressing

I’ll be stressing her out.

Peering deeper into me with scrutiny, to figure now what’s

Wrong with her figure.

I in perpitude;

Will distort just a little

of her details

Make her fiddle as I

bulge out her belly.

Ill shrewdly double her chin.

Brake my back to bend out

Her back fat,

Undetectably I can thin

her hair to threadbare.

She will feel it then;

My wrath for what she’s done.

The day will come that

I’ll shatter her from within.

She will crack if I refract her before she will ever again

feel joy in her fitting, and

her wardrobe

I wittingly will turn against her

as far as she can see.

She will splinter when

left up to me, she’ll swear that in the store things had fit her.

Gaslighting is my delight and

every new dress I’ve guaranteed

Will make her look fat,

Or wide;

Obese!

As for me,

This is not destiny cause

I’ve chosen this path,

But I deem that it seems to be

The right track.

Yes,

in fact it is

The fairest of them all

for I’ve no arms to fight back

And I’m stuck on this wall.