As the party falls away in the mirror,
pouring rain ahead makes my mind wander.
No amount of reflection makes it clearer:
the events I begin to ponder.

Recollection of words, stories and cheer
fall prey to the twisted mirror within,
melted glass and jagged spear
turn reflection to refraction, to my chagrin.

Unuttered words, mistakes,
and faux pas blown out of proportion
to consequences beyond their stakes
and force my stomach to contortion.

How am I to break this rhythm?
Every past action refracted to dread,
every word echoed to force schism,
as a voice taunts me from my head.

“They celebrate the void you leave behind,”
say words dripping with spite,
but then why would they be inclined
to accept me? Against myself I fight.

For every time I push the voice back
it finds a new avenue,
a new vector of attack
to strike insecurities anew.

Hands grip the wheel, tears cloud my view,
calming breaths seek to calm my nerves.
This tainted prism, I wish I could break through
and exhaust its reserves.

Barbs, twisted words, imagined slights
it brings to bear,
but always I strive to unveil with lights
and force its grim refraction into glare.

By night and dreams it lies shattered
and moods have been renewed.
Its fragments shattered
til it will next intrude.