A Wicked Man’s Greatest Fear

A wicked man’s greatest fear is a mirror. Excluding an exceptional few,

the conscience of mind never dies.

A man may try to subdue it,

Or redefine wrong as right,

But the voice of light sings on.

A wicked man may fear beasts or battles,

Or perhaps the dark and dreary.

But nothing chills his blood

Quite like the looking-glass.

To see one’s soul tainted

Or absent from its own.

Well, is that not Hell?

A wicked man’s greatest fear is a mirror.

Ironic is it not? His very fear is his only hope.