The Mirror

A silent rap at the window,
He peers outside to see,  
A beast standing in the snow…
What dark magic could this be?
 
He wipes away the frost that paints the window pane,
To get a better look at Satan’s bastard spawn
Who’s members were bound with an iron chain.
What a malevolent phenomenon.  
 
The eyes of the beast were tinted red,
Stained with the blood of his foes
That he had mercilessly shed.  
What a vicious master this creature follows.
 
Attached to his arms were the hands of a fiend,
Rough and jagged claws, dripping
With the souls of the unredeemed.  
What atrocity committed could warrant a punishment this unforgiving?
 
“Oh Asmodeus, what curse hast thou befallen?!”
He shouts as he shatters the glass
That separates his soul from the beast’s talon.
What can compel this most unholy tribunal to pass?
 
The glass is shattered, but the landscape is gone,
The demon still stares, through the broken pieces of reflection.  
For the window did not peer outward, but into the souls of those who dare to look upon.
What a depraved complexion.