0 A mirrored Shadow

As Harvest approaches,
I am set to die in vain,
Allow my last words to surface,
and rejoice in lonely pain,
But the clock continues to wind,
And I might as well be a mirrored shadow,
I lay entwined in the mercy of tomorrow
Even as my closure welcomes itself,
Tasty gold that chastises my frown
Now in place of once heavy chains embarking my fingers to hide in rage,
Even so, my spoken words shall live through and for my reign,
Kissing the wind on a shadowy day,
Guiding a homeless man to wealth in his chilly soul,
But, the clock has yet to catch me as a pretty victim,
And as my mirror begins to disperse in bits, it has yet to cripple,
I shall, and will prosper, not in vain
but in sheer joy,
For, as the clock ticks, my mind tocks.

--Miranda L., 13