My better self was always born tomorrow

Though the wings of failed seraphs I would borrow

As nights became obsessed with introspection

The days a contravention of reflection

Within the id a stranger did I form

A lily on the waters of a storm

I always searched the mountain for the chasm

The catalepsy caught within the spasm

I can feel no more as this empty shell

I can feel no more as this empty shell

Delusions in the grandeur of the dawn

My better self , in essence, was stillborn