---

Lashing whispers circle the mind

Reflection hollowed by endless rhyme

To know their words and feel their weight

Is to lose within the thin force of hate

The mirror talks

Look upon thee

With a mirror’s loathing gaze

An urge to laugh

At its false idols

This temple of tissue

As barren as content channels

Is the sickly holding cell

flee now – Oiketerion

Leave it for dead - For it’s always been

The hand is forced

If we shatter their mirror

The hand is seeding

Bits and bytes to a greater creature

The holy ghost – a multiple of trinities

Spurred the resignation

In brimming hatred for their façade

We cast impurity out.

Break the Demon’s Mirror