O' what a way to see yourself
In seven different ways,
In seven different mirrors at once,
With only one vision left to haunt my days,
That of my own.
I sometimes wish that I were blind
To relieve me from my rapture
These mirrors mock my every move
And I'm never free from their capture,
That I created.
My face is scarred in ecstasy
A grace hardly ever seen,
I alone see the horrors of my sins
The ones that turned me to a queen,
That I never was before.
Now pity tears what is left
After I marked in pain, becoming royalty
To become the queen of sympathy
Something perfection could never be,
That of a sickness.