The Demon in the Mirror (Poem)

In ledger lines, a life meticulously planned, Arthur Finch, a whisper in the sand. A soul of order, routine's sterile grace, No wrinkle dared disturb his placid face. He balanced books, he balanced every day, While silent furies held his heart at bay.

Then Kaelen came, a smirk in polished glass, A viper's charm, where sanity would pass. "They waste the light," the silver demon hissed, "The joy, the pride, the touch you've ever missed." And Arthur trembled, knife a clumsy fear, The artist's laughter silenced, stark and clear. A shard on velvet, secret, jagged, deep, A fractured promise that a soul might keep.

The method shifted, cold, precise, and grand, The toxin whispered from a careful hand. No primal rage, but intellect applied, As Sophia's judgment slowly, sweetly died. The toaster gleamed, a chrome and twisted grin, Kaelen now danced, more boldly from within. The lines blurred now, a frightening, dark embrace, As Arthur wore a different, colder grace.

Chloe, the weak, a lesson to impart, A perfect suicide, a work of art. His hands that balanced figures, clean and stark, Now penned despair, a cruel and bitter mark. The apartment staged, the gas a subtle trace, Kaelen's dark purpose, etched on Arthur's face. No longer separate, whispers in the mind, But seamless malice, of a singular kind.

Then glass lay shattered, fragments on the floor, A desperate brokenness, and nothing more. Lena's metal, gleaming, harsh, and bright, Reflected back a terrifying sight. Not Kaelen's face, but Arthur's, sharp and keen, Bearing the smile of all that he had been. "It was always you," the inner echo spoke, The silent demon, finally awoke.

Now in the quiet of a sterile room, He sees the stainless, banishing the gloom. No hidden monster, lurking in the pane, Just Arthur Finch, devoid of fear or pain. His eyes reflect a certainty, a poise, The quiet triumph of a chilling voice. The host consumed, the demon in control, The darkness found, to make a broken whole. He holds the peace of secrets understood, The architect of death, forever good