The dragon in the mirror

In shadows cast behind the screen, A whisper calls — serene, obscene. It wears the face of fleeting grace, A honeyed lie in silk and lace. It asks for nothing, just a glance, A stolen breath, a silent dance. One look, one click — what could it be? Just fantasy, just dopamine. But in that spark, it sinks its claws, A leech disguised in nature’s laws. Desire dressed in pixel skin, It lures me softly deep within. Each time I swear it’s just the last, But chains are forged from moments past. The peak is high, the crash is low, A hollow shell, the afterglow. No seed of joy this ritual sows — Just silence loud, and shame that grows. What have I built? What have I burned? For seconds spent, how much unlearned? It benefits no soul or flesh, Just locks the heart in wire mesh. A master built of my own need, Who’s never full, who lets me bleed. I bargain daily with the beast: “Just one more time, then I’ll find peace.” But dragons never deal in small, They smile, then scorch, then take it all. I lie to self — “It’s not that deep.” While dreams decay in poisoned sleep. The urge returns, it knows me well, It rings my name like some soft bell. But truth begins in deepest war, To name the wound, to close the door. To say: This kills, to say: Enough, Though every step is steep and rough. The freedom waits beyond the fight, In simple things, in honest light. The morning smiles, the voices real, The touch of love I once could feel. It is not gone, not lost in fire — The will returns, the soul, the choir. Each battle won, a step reclaimed, Each urge denied, a dragon maimed. And though it sleeps, it breathes in shade, Its hunger sharp, its traps well-laid — I rise, not perfect, but I rise, With clearer heart and steadier eyes. So let it come — the fire, the fight. I’ve found again the taste of light. For porn is death dressed up as thrill, But I have learned: it doesn’t fill. The dragon grows — until I kill