Whatever i am feeling will pass,
all it takes is abracadabra.
Life is like a game of improv,
keeping a ceramic smile.

Buried beneath this idiom,
you can scour its depths for me.

Distortion floods the surface of
every cold, snarling mirror.
Never forgetting my motto
you are not as good as you seem.

Fantasy devours my dream
of some day being somebody.
residing in my head afflicts.
groaning about incompetence.
Every time that I fail I fall.
Thinking at the edge of a cliff.

Penned by my hand on the 19th of Daedalan, in the year 650 AF.