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The mirror

For this I stand infront the mirror

quiet as dead.

Looking.

And a whisper dives at my eyes

piercing my head.

I never knew whow he was...

Me?

An idol?

A pale form?

 

For that I stand infront the mirror

with the millions tales.

Waiting for a story from every

face.

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Written by
disarme
Greek
Published
Mar 16, 2010
Lines·Words
13·51
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