I fear what I am, how I stare at my reflection,
and asking why?
Why do I look as I do,
as I move, and for whom?
What style of eyes shed blinding cries,
a face I just don't know.
An awkward nose, thin frame of mine,
and hair that'll never cease to grow.
I am a victim once again,
of a natural cry,
to touch, to pry,
forever I ask why?
In space I flee,
a comet led by a force with a smile,
a smile meant for me.
Space dents its prints so peacefully,
and shaped for souls unborn.
What do I fear but unknown saints,
whom I scorn.
Why do they play with the sharpest of blades,
pricking an unfit belly where lint takes its collection.
A vessel for the spirit world,
a robot built to perfection.
For whom, I ask.
I just don't know.