Contemplation

Look into the mirror,
Itching your ears til they bleed
because the ticking clock
drives you mad.

Blank eyes staring,
Emotionless - cold,
like winter snow.
Your eyes give birth to
tears of ice.

Contemplating perfection,
it slowly burns away
because all you can achieve
is the failure that you cling to,
comfortably staying with it.

Embracing the pain and misery,
becoming addictive until you cannot be
without it's chilled hold
upon your trembling hand.