There is a mirror, a stark line of gray splitting the surface
Taking the reflection in halves of a whole
And so it hangs, crooked and dusty on black walls
Now Envy stands before the mirror, cut by the gray and halved into Jealousy on the heart and Pride on the right
The charcoal backdrop silhouetting Envy into these two forms
Existence contained to a crooked frame, filling the silver surface everywhere but the splitting gray line
The dead stretch where neither Pride nor Jealousy stare back
Nor Envy
It is just a gray line
But the mirror hangs crooked, letting Pride swell in the angle of Envy's reflection, filling more then Jealousy on the heart side,
the left
The light flicks on and the walls are not black, but white
Dying out the mirrors reflection
For only in the darkness can the two halves make whole
And in Envy's stance
Is Me