Calling Myself

Each diurnal cycle, I confront the mirrored glass, A silvered portal to the soul, where self-perception's gaze does pass. I behold my reflection, a visage worn with pride, And whisper to my heart, "I am resplendent, a masterpiece, inside." With every glance, I reaffirm my intrinsic worth, A litany of self-admiration, an ode to my unfaltering mirth. I am untouchable, a paragon of invincibility, Immortal, a being of unyielding spirit, forged in the crucible of tenacity. My outward appearance, a tapestry of elegance and poise, A symphony of refinement, a testament to my discerning joys. I sit enthroned upon the lunar sphere, a monarch of the night, Higher still, I ascend the mountain's pinnacle, where the air is rare and bright. I am worthy of reverence, a being of unimpeachable character, A treasure to behold, a gem beyond compare. My value lies not in material wealth, though riches may abound, But in the inherent worth of my soul, a treasure that can never be bought or sold. Yet, in this fleeting existence, I am tempted by the siren's call, To barter my bodily autonomy, to surrender to the whims of those who would enthrall. Money, a seductive mistress, beckons me to yield, But I, a sentient being, must weigh