Lies of the Mirror
Climbing the walls within a dream's play
views in likeness are nigher than they loom, our judgements are settle to interest, closely drawn to trickery by wonder artery, question sans echo
Tis a riddle wrapped up in an enigma, not an ounce of disclosure lest to let on the key from ye for none hath wist the truth, albeit windows to the soul last to pry into lie deeming the husk even so to behove brusque
Therein a carnal dress, like a lot past the grave obscurity repress, with a nude vision only to guess, but they finger to break this taboo by bodily view
Induced by guile ever awhile, beauty is only skin deep!