I hold a flipped mirror for the world to see
Their faces in blame to a fire I made.
They see not their likeness; the mirror’s on me.
I authored the parts, ’twas roles they all played.
Did I write my betrayal or naively give pass?
I’d bury their script to shield them from flame.
They think of them first, yet see me as glass.
A gift’s given not from arrows of blame.
I’ll heed the fire and bare the wounds.
Fault not the world; it owes no hand.
I shed the ash in alternate tune.
From fish of a boy to shark of a man.
A long journey flawed, I must accept,
But a contract of vengeance is cleverly kept
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