Mirror
An unfamiliar smirk,
painted with disgust,
shotgun in hand,
blood-quenched shirt,
who are you?
His body lay still,
frozen-
with the holes you stabbed twice-
not three but twice,
one for the time he lied
and one for the time he left-
gave up,
failed-
the test you tested each one,
every time,
like a routine-
Hitler's followers
and once they revealed their true identity,
you tore them apart,
each time you grinned a bit wider.
And now you stand there infront of me,
smiling with that same sick grin.
That same twisted expression
that same satisfaction.
Once more I ask you who you are,
why you've done the things you've done.
I wait,
no reply-
until the mirror shatters to puzzle pieces-
and as I begin to pick them up,
I gaze into a small chip,
small enough to miss,
and there you are behind me,
there you were the whole time,
you never really left,
I shoved you out.
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