The Devil And The Mirror
As he sat, he bent his neck down toward
A drenchèd floor and gazed with love abhorred
Into himself, framed with black murk, he stared.
The pool stared back, fiendish. There stooped, ensared
Was he, gazing deep. No ripple moved still
Waters while he watched, no echoes did trill
About his lair then, no breath hung forlorn
Beside either of them. Yet o the scorn.
Faded shrieks still called out behind sad eyes.