You sit there broken, your gaze splintered.
You feel alone, burned, and blistered.
But your gaze settles not on the floor.
The shattered mirror reflects the open door.
I stand in the doorway, hand outstreched,
You know I watched as you lay and retched.
But my gaze was not that of hate nor contempt,
But of sadness and tears as you cried as you retched.
Your pain was a burden, you believed.
But a burden of which you can be relieved.
My unwavering hand reached for you.
But it was contempt which consumed you.
You hated my hand, unwavering there.
You believed me to be evil, from the devil's lair.
I smiled softly, knowing hate.
But that soft smile, came too late.
You slashed with the mirror at my hand.
The blow from the mirror did not land.
I withdrew my hand with a pained gaze.
But that pain was a complicated maze.
You cried and screamed, swiped at me.
I frowned and thought on what help I can be.
You screamed and cried and stabbed at me.
I reached one last reach to save you.
Then you told me burn in hell.
I grimly watched you sit there, and spoke quietly,
"You cut your hands on that mirror, perhaps shattered it as well, and now you try to kill me saying I can burn in hell? You see I tried to save you, tried make a lifelong friend, but instead of coming with me, my life you tried to end, and now I will watch and wait, as this pain causes your soul to rend."