Reflections of a dying light (version2)

I look upon the mirror frail, which in my hand I hold. I look upon the person who, for you, has sold his soul. A shadow of my former self, staring back at me. A ghostly image now reflects the man I’ve come to be. To toy with my affection, does it bring you endless pleasure? Or am I just an object that you care to use at leisure? Trapped as if within the mirror, I seek to find escape. Salvation comes when you decide the mirror has to break.