Sutured

He came home in the night,
Looked in the mirror to only realize,
How horrid his words have been.
What he has done.
"Oh what did you do."
The pestering entity had come back.
All he can do is scream at himself.
Through the mirror his words pass,
"It wasn't my fault!"
-"But you did it"
--"I didn't want to"
---"But you did"
----"You made me"
-----"Indeed you made yourself do so"
A loud crack rustles the steady air.
Shards of glass fall to the floor,
Others bite into his knuckles.

A quiet trek through the home,
slivers of glass biting harder,
some finding their way into his vessels,
slipping through his vulnerable pores.
In the room he sits on the counter,
pulling the little demons from his fist.

A subtle glimmer pulls his gaze,
A silver needle, as curled as his mouth.
His soft assuring whisper,
"I won't harm again".
The glimmer soon was dulled,
A dark metallic solution covers it,
Dripping off his lower lip.
Slowly pulling thread through skin,
The liquid down his shirt,
Dripping ever so slowly.
Half way across,
Now the pain is coming.
But the damage has been done,
No longer can he scream in pain.
Only weak moans,
For the thread holds fast.
Now his lips are sealed,
Forever.
At long last.