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.