Not like an ordinary man;
Lesser, filthier still.
I'm a mirror; an imitation,
Whose existence only grows shrill

No thoughts are wholly mine
No desire my heart would spin
I'm a fluid searching a vessel
Just to mold itself in.

No heights have I conquered,
Those marches weren't mine
I am no climber of pursuit,
In no success will I dine.

In no reality will I exist,
Even my dreams aren't of me
I'm not a dreamer in this dreamy world;
Only nightmares residing in me.