Shall it be, a simple inflection,
something once mirrored, like your reflection.
I am no fool, you see,
though I still seek, my own remedy.
You find comedy in your speech,
remember they only follow, to have a peak.
You are no messiah,
though you leave a mess.
Once done with one's preaching you stand and bow,
tell me, is one such as you to deliver such blow.
You perform a war at your finger tips,
they will follow you until the end.
Honestly will you leave them once used?
Oh, how you intentionally abuse.
I see through your petty disguise,
even the mirror you look into cries.
So tell me kind sir, what shall you do,
when you look in the mirror, what you see no longer resembles you.
