A small, red drop
That slides from my fingernail to the floor,
The angry silence that screams throughout the room.


Slithering
Like a slippery eel through the cracks of the wooden floor,
My hands painted a crimson colour.


The flickering light and hidden moans
Of the ghosts that live inside my room,
They watch me, still and unforgiving.

The mirror stands in front of me,
Displaying the reflection of a creature I do not know,
A creature I cannot seem to understand.
I raise the knife in midair,
And watch it shatter.