Needless Things: Deathly Vain

In mirrors cracked with neon light, She worships shadows every night, A skeleton draped in velvet shame, Whispers her own forgotten name.

Her lips are stitched in phantom hues, A mask of pride she cannot lose, The roses rot, the glass decays, Yet still she stares, a hollow gaze.

Death courted her with gilded chains, A crown of skulls, electric veins, Her vanity—her final shrine, Where beauty rots, yet dares to shine.

And when the reaper comes to claim, He kneels before her burning flame, For even death must bow in pain, To worship one so deathly vain. NNN