The Proud Man

When you look upon the mirror
do you see the hero you dream of
or the monster you’ve become?
You are the perfect reflection
of the thing you seek to destroy:
his weapons for your big red button,
his brainwashed masses for your loyal troops,
his hatred for yours, burning just as bright.
The music of war is ringing in the distance
orchestrated by your very own hands
from the safety of desk and desire,
indiscriminate in its weeping audience
with hearts that beat like those of the children
who welcome you home with oblivious smiles.
When you look upon the mirror
I ask you, are you proud?

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