“Mirror Mirror, show me my face”, said the father,
staring into his soul at the midnight bell.
His eyes fixed in fright in anticipation of the image
of the devil that always held him in his spell.

The night flew in to rise the incubus to life,
stirring the depths of his conscience.
The mask that he hoped would replace his face
acting only as a shield of convenience.

Of the voices that echoed from the shadows of the night
in his endless fight raged against the bigot inside,
the loudest was the fear of his unrighteous spirit
pushing the son he loved into the same diabolical slide.

And he thought of his daughter that he cherished so much
through the length of the night as he endured his torment..
“Let her not grow up with same regrets of my life,
mean and maligned within, a facade of virtue to misrepresent.”

The man that he grew up into, with his wicked ways,
he forever wished he never became.
The devil that smiled back at him in the mirror’s face
he despised with disgust and shame.

From the depth of his darkness, the father prayed
“Help God, please don’t let my children succumb..”
he pleaded to that power he rarely believed,
“..to this devil so they don’t become the person I’ve become.”