“Where is your urge to live?”, The mirror asked
with silent words that almost made me deaf.
What could I have said in response? Of late,
I too have wondered through the night, in vain,
searching for it across my universe
and I have left not a single stone unturned.
The mirror, too relentless, asked again,
as if it could not hear the silent scream
of agony from my null and void mold,
rather obsolete for the current scheme.
I turn away from the mirror, just as I have
turned away from all the grand illusions of life,
and I don’t expect it to comprehend my state
or the fact that I have an urge to die, instead.