Kanna swirl's,

Alone, playing with the mirror,

The mirror,

Her mirror.

It was her friend, her playmate,

Her companion.

It told her thing's,

It reflected her,

All the other's,

And their soul's.

But not her's.

Oh no, not her's,

She didn't have a soul.

She was the perfect creation.

He told her so.

He crooned to her,

Sweet nothing's,

But they were just that,

Nothing.

Like her.

The void.

Void.

Nothing.

Perfection.

To be nothing,

To feel nothing,

To be perfect,

Was to be nothing.

Not one person saw past those,

Bottomless black eye's.

Maybe one day,

Some one would.

But until then,

She swirl's,

Playing with her mirror.