Every single girl, he thought
he was deeply in love with,
one after the other
were opinionated mirrors,
only capable of unfaithful reflection,
interpreting him the way each pleased,
no two reflections, ever did coincide!

Where is the real him,
he always wondered
how fickle it all looked,
the place he stood by mere chance,
did make a difference, it turned out,
the dance, the dance, like one is made to walk
over the burning red  coal bed continues.