You take away lives
You pillage homes
You destroy beauty
For it is a ritual.
For it is a traditional game.
You come home
Beaten and tattered
Shirt bloodstained and dignity shattered.
You look in the mirror, your past asks you,
"What do you see?"
"I don't know anymore."
Your past stares intensely in your eyes in the mirror.
"It never had to be this way. You had someone who loved you dearly. You had people who adored you. You had a family who cared for you."
You look up in the mirror with rage.
"What do you know about care? What do you know about love? Everyone fears me. Even You fear me..."
"I never feared you. I was sad because you pushed me away. I died and never came back."
You bunch your hand into a fist and smash the mirror and watches as it shatters to a million pieces and the splinters jab into your flesh.
You collapse to the ground.
"You are me. But I use to be you."