If at all, the silver Sun shines

When the silver Sun shines on you
with you
at you,
I'd see your different side,
your deviated glide,
an antithetic hide.

It seems fog is resistant;
conscience is in dire,
Like the passionately weak silver might,
braving the torrents of her
cousin
For he is stronger.

When the silver Sun blinds you
changes you
kills you,
I would not be the one who suffers any more,
your name will,
your shape will,

The silver Sun would have made you howl.

At the end of my arm
where my hand should be,
you will not see it.

Whatever happens,
Do not follow me,
Do not jump aboard.

At the end of this sentence
where you should see a “full stop”
When you just want all this madness to end,
there will be in its place:

If at all, the silver Sun shines...