Catalepsy In Staccato Rain

My better self was always born tomorrow Though the wings of failed seraphs I would borrow As nights became obsessed with introspection The days a contravention of reflection Within the id a stranger did I form A lily on the waters of a storm I always searched the mountain for the chasm The catalepsy caught within the spasm I can feel no more as this empty shell I can feel no more as this empty shell Delusions in the grandeur of the dawn My better self , in essence, was stillborn