Smile in the mirror with all your cries,
all your tender spots, raw
like fresh meat in grinder,
all your bleeding wounds,
all the complexes of holding goodness
all alone, all along in your heart,
all the searches, all the burns for right
in the sparkles of your eyes,
maybe this time
the lonely man of emulations,
the clone you would never look at,
the mime artist,
submerged in the verge of clarities,
sponging all your images,
approves
your asylum
to other side,
