Mirror, mirror, on the border wall,
Who is the most injured of us all?
Kill them all and sweep them to the sea,
Our only choice is to die, and so be free.
Fourteen Hundred become so many thousand,
Food for the hungry guns and,
Each one dies alone,
In the ruins of their home.
Look them straight in the eyes,
Every accusation a fake confession.
For us the sun will never rise,
Our deadly work makes us one damned nation.
A glorious death was for each the desire,
But we see ourselves only as the flames get higher.
*After Louis Zinkin, Group Analyst
Malignant Mirror
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