I Faced the Enemy

Looking at him, I could see what they told me was true. He is not human, they said, he is not like us. Looking across the open space between us, I could now see this reality. His face was not like mine. It was a mask of unfiltered hate. A hate so powerful that it must surely warp the mind of any being possessing it. His posture spoke only of violence, and his actions told only of wanting my death before I could deliver his.

There used to be more with me, but now I am alone, alone with only this tortured soul in front of me. I stand alone, reflecting on what I see. His movements follow mine. When I lower my hand to my weapon, his snaps to his own with a ferocity that leaves no doubt to his intentions. When I step back, shouting, to get away from this beast he springs back and snarls in response. I narrow my eyes at him and his own stare back, piercing with undisguised hate.

Enough I decide. It is time for this unworthy beast to die. He is not like the rest of us, he cannot live with us, for he is so different from us. Knowing I am in the right, I draw, along with him. Weapons pointed, mine steady and smooth, his quivering with his anger. I know I can’t out shoot him, and he knows he can’t out shoot me. It matters not. As one the triggers are pulled. An echoing crack, and a shattering silence…

As I sweep up the silver slivers I catch a glimpse of him again. A hateful eye, reflected from the folds of the Persian rug, a clenched fist sparking back from the dustpan. I smile, for I know. We are both shattered to each other. He is gone for now, but he will be back. We cannot hide from him, this I know. For I have met the enemy, and He. Is. Us. 




I got nothing for this, it was a random product of too much time to think, listening to Man in the Mirror by MJ, and reading that Pogo quote. It just kind of all hit me, our warping of the other to raise ourselves, when we are the other ourselves. IDK, I'm fine, but I just wanted to write this down, take from it what you will.