"Who is there?"
Narcissus or Nemesis,
staring big eyed into the abyss.
Is it divine punishment to love oneself?
Visage of venial vexation,
admiration over deprecation.
The dark waters of self betrayal,
less myth than the portrayal.
Gelid pond or fiery lake,
setting of a fatal mistake,
parlay circumstance to your will,
is like writing with a busted quill.
Soliloquy of a strategist,
echoes antiquated catalysts,
For self then search, nay prod and seek,
though in the end, it all may be Greek.
Poem & Oil Painting by Mr. Gothic Hangman himself