She looked in the mirror
And she saw a thousand reflections,
Their faces were warped and faded,
Unrecognizable as human.

But she knew them,
For they were parts of her
Long since buried deep within her
As she gave into the divine.

She had keeled at the base of the
Majestic Temple as the warm sun glowed from behind,
Had cried out for His forgiveness and absolution
And she was saved from her past.

But now, the malformed heathen, her demons,
Were being exhumed and she knew
That no prayer, no higher being,
Could save her now.

Still, she screamed and begged and pleaded
As the dark, unholy talons of depression
Dragged her back to that horrid abyss-
The never ending darkness and torture consumed.

But her cries of woe
Would never be heard over
The song of the crow.