It looks at me
Half expecting something
Half wondering if the grass is truly greener
On the other side of this imaginary border
Between his and our world.
He looks different
Yet he is me
But i know this to be false
How can i look like him
I feel different then how he looks
It is nothing of what i see
When i look down at myself
Like that of a god
Or that of a king over his people.
He isn't even what i wish to become
Is he a syren?
One that wants me trapped in my head
Where he lurks
WIthin the husk of me
Waiting for the day i am weak
When he is free
To destroy the village
And leave it in a blaze
To cackle along with the last of the flames
And to look on with the blood of those he killed
Echoing in his eyes.
This image i shall shatter
For it is too good to be true
Too evil to see the light of day
And the looking glass shatters
Along with his dreams and hopes
And i remain.
But am i better then he
Or am i the true villian of the two?
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