The Pot

I love how the pot calls the kettle black and how the drunken monkey yells at the idiot in the mirror. So I shine, and in my reflection you see your faults. Your deeds, black as pitch. Your politics are the politics of a thief or a despoiler of the people. And you, on your high social horse rally cries of "Monster" and "Liar" as I try to live as I've been taught.