In the calm of an empty room
I found Pride behind the mirror glass,
and coaxed it into daylight.
I fanned flames from ash
with a slip of red silk,
slashed open white to the skin,
bared like orange pith,
small defense against an outside world.
Pride slipped from me at a doorway
and in the mirror
was only sin the colour of shame.
Grey again in the ruins of an inferno,
I told myself
no one was looking at me anyway.
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