I see a canvas that’s stretched out morbidly too thin and layered too deep.

An empty opening with the deadliest reflection in the eyes that pierces the veil of perception and locks in with a gaze staring back into perfect nothingness

When I look in the mirror,

And if I ever do,

I’m reminded that vanity is the very power of the soul that cannot be measured or understood through simple visuals or understandings of our own autonomy but rather is rooted in our sense-of-self

An identity created by our deepest hatred for our most divine features

Encompassing our deepest desires within self, sacrafice and serenity