millions of illusions, too much strife,
that rabbit hole digs deep in our souls,
curtains collapse before the meanings exposed,
we can try to peek backstage for a glimpse,
but that cloak is quick to disguise their essence,
like an 6mm black and white our past plays for all,
roughly cut, skipping straight to the fall,
A magician would be nothing without that deep mystery,
being able to conjure glorious hues and false history.
