I look at the mirror with such dread.
I look beyond what I behold.
Yes, I see a soft-faced man-embodied child;
a man who should have remained a child is what you would probably see
and nothing more;
but I,
oh… I see something far darker than you could ever imagine.
In that dreadful mirror,
beyond the Machiavellic smirk,
that deceitful grin belonging to a Mona Lisa in male form…
Yes, I see much more than just that.
When I look through that God-dammed mirror,
that mirror that exposes too much of the truth,
I see a dark spirit trapped inside the body of what should
and could have been an innocent soul.
That evil demon that resides in me screams
and squeals as loud as the herd of swine
that Jesus himself let the demons possess.
And as much as I desire to break that mirror, the face, my face, will always remain there.
