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Behind the mirror, the man is seen Where on our streets surrounded, Friends Thousands met cold, untimely death With screamed echoes of souls unrest Bullets flied, guns blasted ceaselessly Children dead in their mothers’ arms Father, for his lost son searched Found him only, with parts cut in shreds. Behind the mirror, was the man there? Our Young children, to soldiers turned Educated only in field of war Guns carried, bigger than they can bear Faught battles, of no cause but fear To read or write, they dared not do But to shoot or kill, well informed they were. The man behind the mirror, how did he rest? Our babies, dead while he sound slept In his glorious, paradise mirror he kept Still offered nothing, but violence more Promised, inflicted upon innocents, murder If anyone dared open their mouths to speak Or, if orders came of his seat to render. Behind that mirror, my freedom he took Our homes Burned; our stores looted Citizens, chased out of a land to love Forced into exile for years so many Adapted to a culture so not ours From scratch, we started to build Until bit by bit, we rose so high above Like an eagle, up up and away. The man behind the mirror, for him I always blame The color so dark, on our backs stained Bruises so deep, forever left to heal Visions of his bloody watch, repeatedly, us plagued Flashbacks of dear ones loved, Snatched, And palmed away by cruel, hateful death With tumbled bodies over bodies All soiled up into one tiny hole. Behind that mirror, the man will always be With blissful look in his red, budging eyes Wishing evil gleefully, with a dark smile His laughter,joy, through my anguish I see My heart beats fast, like a thunder sound And the more my hate for him increase Oh how I wish, that mirror came crashing down Then, a taste of his own medicine, he shall get
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