In the depths of the midnight, so cold and so dark,
A house stood abandoned, with a rusted-out park.
Its windows were shattered, its doors hung ajar,
A place where no light could dare to go far.
Inside there was silence, yet whispers did crawl,
Echoes of something that once lived, now no more.
The air held a tremor, a chill like a knife,
And the mirror on the wall showed a different life.
It reflected the room, yet not as it was,
But twisted and dark, as though held by a cause.
Figures were dancing, their shadows alive,
But those who moved closer could never survive.
For the mirror’s reflection wasn’t just glass,
It pulled at your soul, devouring the past.
Each gaze in its depth would forever remain,
In that twisted world, trapped in its reign.
One evening, a traveler, weary and old,
Stepped through the door, though his heart turned to gold.
His eyes met the glass, drawn in by the gleam,
Not knowing the mirror would steal his last dream.
And now he stands trapped, on the other side,
A reflection of fear, where the lost souls reside.
Each night he calls out, yet none ever hear,
For the mirror’s false promises are all that appear.
So beware of the glass that calls to your mind,
For once you look in, you’ll leave it behind.
The endless reflection will steal your very soul,
A life locked away, as it takes full control.