MIRRORS DONT LIE
The real you isn't the fake camaraderie, the smile you give, the node of the head. The real you isn't the one who sees the good in people. The real you isn't what everyone things. Behind the glass is a pain much deeper. Behind the face, peel back the skin, the real you appears right in the face of everyone. Peel back the skin and we can all see the real you.
Do you really think you can hide your true identity with plastic surgery, the well-to-do attitude. Do you really think you can hide behind the money and fame, the notoriety? Do you really think we can't see you hiding in plain sight?,
I can see you. I can see behind the fake boobs, dyed hair and earrings. I can see right through you. You know that though, that is why you are scared to look inside of me. You are no longer covered when you look inside of me. You can no longer hide. It shatters your false facade.
I may be a pane of reflective glass but I know who you are. I know your secrets.
When you look into me you are exposed, and you don't like that. No, I can feel your heart throbbing like a horse.
It was only a week ago when that bitch looked into me. Her eyes burned red, her greasy hair danced around. Her profession was teaching, but there's a special place in the pits of hell just for her. You know what the brief smile was hiding? Do you want to know what she did?
I can see you nodding, you want to know. Want to know like they all do. You want to know what she did was worse than what you did. To give you some more sense of superiority in your pathetic life.
She killed a baby? I can see you gasping. She didn't just kill the baby in some freak accident. No, she took it outside to the well and threw it in. The worst part. It was her own flesh and blood. She had enough of the endless nights of the crying. She should feel remorse, but she didn't. She did not feel an ounce of remorse. She just went back to her life like nothing happened.
How fucking sick is that? She teaches year six at a Catholic school acting all holier-than-thou, but then she goes home and watches videos of people being killed. She gets sick thrills I won't go into details but this makes her overly excited in all kinds of ways. She gets thrills from the dead and enjoys the kills. What a twisted freak?
She isn't the only one to look into me over the decades. Nope. Let me tell you all sorts of powerful people have fallen upon me staring deep inside me looking at me. I can see the real them. They don't always know it, but they can feel it. They can feel my presence.
A member of parliament was looking into me back in the 70s. He was a fat pork belly pig with a disgusting nose. He looked like Ted Bundy and acted like the all British Family man with a loving wife, two children and a palace they called home. He was a private educated pompous prick who believed everyone loved him.
When he looked in me this false facade fell apart in moments crumbling like apple pie. The real him, the man who beat his wife and kids. The one who had an assortment of scantily clad Ukrainian women pop up every week. The one who was falling under so much debt that the bank of England couldn't even bail him out.
The night he looked into me he had been beating up the Ukraine woman, calling her all sorts. Spitting on her, hitting her. Throwing her around like a bag of rubbish. When he looked into me I boiled up.
I can see everything. I know everything that goes on. You can't hide from me. But you know that you're looking at me right now. You can't fight it, you can't run from it. There's nowhere you can go to hide from the truth. I can feel you.
It's not just the rich and powerful who fall upon my gaze. You know that you're not rich, you're not powerful, your life has no meaning. You never make an impact.
The man to look into me just last week was a vet. The kind that looks after animals or should. On the outside he is warm and bubbly, goes the extra mile. He loves all animals and gives them great care.
Let's peel that skin away and look underneath. To see the real him. Shall we? You know there was a owner of a cat names Mr kibbles who went in for a regular checkup before she was put down. She didn't have a rapidly growing tumour she as fit as the day is young.
The vet kills in cold blood. Do you know he doesn't just put them down? He snaps their necks and watches them suffer. He enjoys inflicting pain on the weak little animals. He beats them. Hurts them tortures them then tells the awful news to the owners that they have sadly passed away. This vet has been doing this all his life. His parents swept it under the rug as if it were normal. The sick fucks.
It's ok though. I am glad that they looked at me. That's the only way they will lose. The only way justice can be brought upon them,. You see, I can't move on my own. But people move me. I've been around since 1700 and I have been getting revenge ever since,
You know how people like vintage; I am vintage. I am hanging from the walls inside your grandma's house, but every time I need a new owner I get shipped off. I have travelled the world from France to Italy to the states. They pass me back and forth and hang me from their wall where my magic can happen.
You see no one is innocent, you all have something to hide. I play on that I can haunt you. I can bring back those memories. I have a power that you should never underestimate. I am the spark that will light the fuse of your downfall. I am here from the heavens above to deal justice upon your kind. I may not physically hurt you, but you will pay.
Physical pain is nothing. It's a mere sensation that doesn't last. I bring on something much worse. Something people can never explain. An unequivocal pain hits them like a two tonne truck.
That bitch of a teacher got all she deserved. When she looked into me it made me angry, ready to do as much harm to her as possible. A baby killing bitch needed to be taken care of. I got inside her head, deep down. I wormed my way in.
Every night when she was asleep I opened up the can of worms with trumpets blaring. I flooded her minds with images of death that I would inflict on her and her family.. Images of the baby; her lying there dead in the well. I made her cry herself to sleep and just when she thought the dreams had stopped I snuck back up and pounded her head.
It only took a few days before it got too much. She couldn't take it anymore. She got the sharpest knife in the house and opened up the river Ganges from her wrist. I was still in her mind. I made her come forth and rub it into my face. It felt good as the blood dried. It gave me power and energy.
she took a day before she bled out. The dump bitch, missed her vitals but she cut deep enough to cause unbearable pain. That was my doing. She needed to die painfully. I pushed her to the edge, there's no doubt about it but she made her own way there like they all do. They all deserved it.
The mullet cunt looked at me every night before bed, always playing with his hair. Touching it, combing it. In his head he could get any woman he wanted with the click of his fingers. He thought Brad Pitt was no match for him, in reality he looked like an overweight pig stuffed into a ken doll sized suit with a balding head in toe.
In reality, the only woman who would ever sleep with him took cash to undress. He wasn't a player, he was a mumbling idiot.
It was one night; it was dark, the room was light with candles. I could see him getting ready. Always touching his greasy hair, just stroking it. Re-aligning it. It looked no better than when it started. The door bell went and he scurried to answer it.
What he did not know when he went down those stairs is that he was in control. He wasn't. I can tell you that much. I was in his mind taking over and he was about to end his reputation on the spot.
Once the pretty little thing was getting undressed. Mr Minister grabbed onto the bedside lamp and swung it hard into the back of her head. He repeated this until the bed sheets turned crimson. That's when I left him to stew in his own thoughts.
After a minute, I climbed back in. He brought me her blood and rubbed it into my glass. I could feel it seeping in. It felt so nice and warm, so fresh.
It wasn't long before they charged him with murder. Everything he knew came crumbling down. A man like him deserved torturous nights, death wasn't good enough. He needed to pay and they will inflict every night on him before he enters the pits of hell.
Now you must wonder about the vet. I was in his surgery and he looked at me deep down. This one was the best. The baby killer and MP were not evil to the core, but this man was so evil. I could Feel his energy deepen. Every layer of his skin was evil. He would have to be extra special.
I first got him to undress. Then I unlocked the cage of a dog who was staying overnight to treat rabies. I made the dog attack, and he drew blood. He made deep lacerations over his body .He bit and chewed and then he consumed. The dog ate part of him. I then got the dog to come to me where his head exploded. Blood soaked me, making me more and more powerful .
By now you should realise I have power, they have fed me this power for a very long time.
So I told you the story and you may wonder why. What have you got to hide? What is under your mask? What are you hiding deep down?
Well, nothing you're a saint and that's what I need. I have been inside a mirror too long. I can't do his work unless I move into another body, a pure body from mind to soul. Don't make this harder than it needs to be.
I can sense that you're not the biggest fan. You're getting angry. But why are you getting angry, your anger is fuelling me? You should know that. What are you going to do with that? You really think.
Really, you are making this difficult, I will put myself back together, you know that. Give me a second to be whole again. You're trying to run, stop fighting this. No, stop fighting, there is no way for you to win this. There is no way for you to escape. Your legs won't move.
I am whole again. Now let me see your secret.