Glass Veins

The mirror hums with sharp decay. Lips bite truths too hard to say. Night spills ink across raw skin. Pain, a needle, threads within. Stars bruise black beneath the bone, Each cut carves silence into stone. A breath, thin glass shivering cold, Fragile shards the dark still holds. Within this cracked reflection lies A fractured self, where silence cries. Veins of glass wrap around my heart, Each pulse a scream, each ache a dart. The night, a specter with fingers stained, Lingers close, its whispers pained. I wear my wounds like a second skin, A map of sorrow etched within. Sleep is a haunt of moths and dread, While shattered dreams stir in my head. I breathe in shards of brittle light, Each pulse a ghost in the velvet night.