I looked in the mirror for signs of goodness,
that elusive quality that priests,
politicians and ex-wives ask for
as they are about to cast you
into eternal damnation.
I found nothing,
just a tired outline
of a cold, shivering soul
trembling in a corner,
trying hard to eviscerate himself
so he could be redeemed in the eyes
of holy gangs
looking for devotees.
So I smashed the mirror.
Later, I was booked for mirror-smashing,
a cardinal sin,
and sent into exile,
where I found myself.
© 2013 Marlon de Souza. All rights reserved.