Fabricationist

The mirror has been shattered, The pieces have been littered, And yet, they still have the audacity to reflect back at me, my own distraught image, one that haunts and flaps its wings and follows behind me, One that i cannot see, but i know of its antagonizing omnipresence. The bird knows too, like a faithful messenger, it follows me around. It sends messages to everyone I know, Regardless of compliance or rejection from the recipients, regardless of whatever insignificant plea i use in a last desperate attempt to appease its sickening appetite For rendering, tearing and relentless pecking. No shotgun would kill this abominable faithful messenger of mine. No pest extermination squad nor scientific breakthrough could detach its claws from my shoulders. In futility, I try to teach it to say pieces of eight pieces of eight all over again. It knocks over the bottle of ink onto a fresh slate I had aet for muself. How I detest and abhor thee, Vulturous past of mine.