Every prism is a prison within this black mirror
....and I am all but trapped in trance.
Lost within this illusion of light,
malformed disdain staring back at me.
Weak within my presence.
....and I am all but trapped in trance.
At every angle, I've become my undoing.
This defective form to watch in past tense,
so much so, that my stains are stationary.
....and I'm all but trapped in trance.
Existence shaped in lies and shit
I know what I've done and hate what I've become.
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