Despite being I shall never be perceived

for it is life where everything must remain unknown.

Hard infused in every ounce of my personality

it shall reflect and yet shall never be shown.

O’dear o’dear my tragedy shall be magical

and shall resound to the distant stars.

While I will disintegrate follicle by follicle,

my time will know no end of hours.

If you could muster enough courage

and dare to see what I witness,

you shall feel the resonance I share with age

and crumble just like I do as you call me a mess.

I am a tragedy but I am magnificent and magical,

may all those who wish to be known for themselves get to

whilst knowing that being true shall be empirical.

Ask that mirror, is that really you?