Non serviam.

Non serviam
I whispered to my reflection
looking into my red and ruthless eyes
tracing the lines of my frowning brows
with pale blue fingers
dying and cold.

I have skittered the edges
and met the devils that reside there
their cruel grins growing askance
when I turned away
and their horned fingers grappled
tearing at me.

When silence fell
like long shadows in the dusk
of my oscillating piety
I press my fingers against my neck
and count the beats
of my wicked and weak heart.

No, dear heart
non serviam.