p o p !
goes the
eyes of
a
goddess
when in
her hand
laid the
mirror.
no such
reflection
she had
looked at,
like a still
before her
—
where is
the pearl
complex-
ion she'd
smooth-
ened out
f o r
herself ?
where is
the eyes
she had
s e e n
herself th
rough for
the past
century ?
"what is
t h i s
malfun-
ction ? "
s h e
asked.
"it is the
i m a g e
of souls,
d e a r
goddess.
it shows
n o n e
but the
t r u t h,"
said the
y o u n g
daedalus.
the dear
goddess
laughed.
a mere
m o r t a l,
pondered
the immo-
rtal, who
d a r e s
tell me
who i am ?
she took an
other look
at her own
i m a g e
—
the too pale
skin and it's
monotonous
effect on her
bland face
—
and then,
she smashed
the imagery
of her own
s l.
o u
