by Andrew Kou
Art by Cynthia Chang
Issue: Serein (Summer 2016)
It was complete
It was unblemished
It was perfect.
I was taught to look up to It
To learn from It
To be It.
And I was.
But what’s that?
A miniscule speck—a flaw?
No. I’m sure it’s nothing. I know It well enough.
But it still stands out like a miniscule crack on glass
Which keeps growing and weaving through the surface as I continue to look upon It.
Had these flaws always been there, buried beneath layers of lies?
And as It shatters
I realize there’s nothing on the inside
A shiny surface, but hollow underneath
Deceived by the shining of the light It reflected, not that It produced
Righteous, gleaming light masking the Truth.
If what It did wasn’t genuine
Was anything I had done even real?