I am a low-grade forger of classics

A tailored lie wrapped around a target

Inside my “I am” is only an unsophisticated sophist trying to be discreet

While daring my reflection to get caught

I’m no bridge to walk across, just another cross to bear

A run-of-the-mill member of the mediocre

A morsel of mankind in an arbitrary, amoral cycle

There is no way to represent a symbol of nothing