Jake Cosmos Aller writes

THE OLD MAN IN THE MIRROR MUST DIE

One early winter morning 

A man went to the mirror 

To do his morning shave 

Just another shave 

Like a thousand, million shaves before

As he looked into the mirror 

He did not see his face 

Instead he saw a stranger 

Staring out at him

An old, beat up old man 

With intense sad eyes 

Stared out at him

The man looked hard 

At the man who had taken 

Over his mirror

And wondered who he was 

And how and why 

He had taken over his mirror

The man was perturbed, disturbed 

And a bit angry at the turn of events 

All he wanted to do 

Was shave in peace and quiet

The man continued to stare 

At the face in the mirror 

And finally could not stand it anymore

He looked at the mirror 

And said, 

Man in the mirror 

Who or what are you 

And what do you want 

And why have you taken over 

My god damned mirror 

So early in the morn

The old man 

Merely laughed and resumed staring 

At the man 

The man getting more and more angry 

Demanded an answer 

From the fiend in the mirror

Who are you, you mocking fiend 

And what do you want from me 

The man screamed

The old man in the mirror 

Looked at him and said 

Don't you know who I am 

I am you and you are me

The man looked at the old man 

And said no, no, no 

I am not you, never will be you 

I am not an old, washed up old man 

I am me – full of life, youth and vitality

And yet the man knew the truth 

Did not want to admit the truth 

Could not handle the truth 

The old man in the mirror 

Was what he had become

The man was very angry 

And screamed 

At the old man in the mirror

The man said you may look like me 

You may sound like me 

You may even smell like me

But I am not you 

Never have been 

Never will be 

Not going to happen 

Not in a million years

The man yelled at the old man 

Old man, mocking fiend from hell 

Go to hell old man 

And never darken my mirror again

And the man stormed out of the house 

And wandered about here and there 

Finally late at night 

He wandered into a bar 

And began drinking the night away

The man went up to some pretty young things 

And tried to pick them up 

They laughed at him 

Called him a dirty old man 

And told him to go home

The man went home 

To bed alone 

And drank some more beer 

And dreamt of all of his past loves 

And failed dreams

Of what he had done 

And failed to do 

And wondered whether his time 

Had come

The next morning 

He walked into the bathroom 

Determined to confront the old man 

Tell truth to power

He said, listen up, old man 

You may have won the war 

But not the battle 

I am not you 

And never will be you

And screaming like an escaped banshee 

Newly freed from the mental institution

The man shot the old man in the mirror 

Shot him over and over 

Screaming die mocking fiend from hell

The man woke in the hospital 

An old black doctor came over 

Said sadly 

This white boy ain't right in the head

The man laughed insanely 

And saw down the hall 

The old man in the mirror 

Smiling and beckoning to him 

Walking out the window 

And into the dawning sun

The man got up and walked 

And joined the old man in the mirror 

And smiled as he died

                     The Picture of Dorian Gray -- Stanislav Plutenko