A recent dream about a depressed friend turned into a poem:
Disappear in the dirty mirror,
Tragedy that you are.
Lost one, can you hear us calling you?
Your blood stirs.
Can you see us?
Loving eyes searching for you.
Your eyelids twitch.
Can you smell that?
Your future, decaying flesh.
Your nose wrinkles.
Can you taste that?
Warm bread and butter, a glass of wine, melted chocolate. Your last?
Can you touch us?
Your hands like claws, digging out from that hell hole.
We reach desperately, our hands grasping, slipping,
But you fall
The mirror breaks
and you shatter into a hundred pieces
We all take a fragment to remember you by,
Each piece sharp and painful,