Mirror by Niamah Oran

In the realm of darkness, where shadows breed,

A tale of transformation shall now proceed,

A metamorphosis, grotesque and grim,

As a human soul descends to rat-like realm.

From mortal flesh, a wretched shape does rise,

A being shrinks, as life's essence defies,

Limbs contort, as bones shrink in despair,

Form and figure wither, trapped in a snare.

Behold the creature, once a man of might,

Now a rat, his presence ignites fright,

Squealing echoes, resounding in the night,

As he scurries through shadows, consumed by blight.

His body, adorned in fur coarse and vile,

A repugnant sight that makes all recoil,

Eyes gleaming with malice, reflecting no grace,

Tail swaying in darkness, a mark of disgrace.

His ears twitch and turn, acute and aware,

Sensitive to whispers, to secrets they bear,

No longer human, no longer divine,

This rat-like form, a perversion malign.

With every motion, he's bound to his fate,

Captive to this form, in torment he's sate,

His soul trapped, yearning for what's been lost,

In the labyrinth of vermin, his dreams exhaust.

He scurries through alleys, where darkness prevails,

In search of solace, but all efforts fail,

Rejected by mankind, a pariah, a pest,

Forever confined to a life unblest.

Oh, the anguish that pervades his heart,

As he chases a past, torn apart,

A wretched existence, plagued by despair,

In this monstrous shape, with burdens to bear.

So, let this tale serve as a chilling refrain,

Of a metamorphosis that brought only pain,

For within its horrors, we may come to see,

The fragility of our humanity.