Carousels
in the carnival of your eyes...

Life ends where it begins.
Perfection is a zero in motion...

Who he lights the lamp of your smiles
occasionally...

She put on a mask
realizing her old self...

The dawns of towns are
empowered by the spirits...

All her life searching
for real beauty seeing...

Those who've tried so hard
to sweep him away by brooms...

Life is a case of watercolour,
caterpillars relinquishing being crawlers...

Your smile,
the white queue of musical tone...

How I float on the flow of this music,
how I realize I am a share in this music...

She noticed her face
was a mask amongst many...

Throbbing to seam the
tattered perfection, time is...