Narcissist's Prayer

At last, as we plunge into the abscess, blighted spirits so bereft. Shameful weeping, voices echo from the bottom of a well. Can you hear the cries of worn out phrases from listless gazes, pretentious lingering in childish phases, the heartless hand and empty gestures, the pitiful searching for hollow pleasures. Lost in a palace of mirrors, staring at infinite reflections gazing back, too near to see the mark of shame. Lost in empty dialectics, the art of building up and tearing down, of discussing all things and accomplishing nothing. Of compromised ideals, friendships abandoned, our works substandard, principles meandering. So speak our names as a warning, as a curse, as a failure. At last, it's time to die. So die.