I tried to look the devil in his eyes,
and found myself staring into a mirror.
Bloodshot eyes blinded by regret,
I could barely see my shadow, through the hate.
Strange thoughts flickered through my mind.
Like a bad dream, on repeat throughout the night.
I saw a face worn and worried.
I heard the breaths, short and hurried.
I felt the fear, cold and buried:
A mere shadow of myself,
I worried.
And yet, still I stood.
Facing a mirror blurred by the tears of a forlorn heart crying out to me "mercy, mercy on me"
Still I stood.
Looking into the eyes of a man who had seen the underbelly of bad luck;
Whose sunken eyes were the windows into an exhausted soul and overburdened spirit...
Still I stood.
Staring in anger at a man whose once affable demeanour had, with every pointless blow that life gave, morphed to cold, then surly, then meek;
Like a dog escaping a beating with its tail between its legs.
Still I Stood.
It took all my strength to keep my eyes on the mirror.
No one wants to look back at all his errors.
And yet my fear for being a coward stood far taller than that for being wrong.
For life had rewarded my indescretions with a beating of Biblical proportions.
And I would reward any cowardice with a beating twice as bad.
And so I waded through the muck and the mud, unsure of the path but determined to reach my destination.
For that is your only way out once you've kissed the ring of the dark pope.
One thing comforts me though...
Every scar marks a victory in the struggle.
Cuts, bruises, burns,
Proof that I did haggle.
Rujumba